


somewhere between unsure and a hundred

by sebstanau



Series: younger now than we were before [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bad Parenting, Depression, Dissociation, F/F, F/M, M/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Self Harm, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, dont read if it might trigger you!!!!, obsessive use of stevie, really really minor steve/tony, steve is really fucking depressed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 19:58:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 31,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9253847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebstanau/pseuds/sebstanau
Summary: It happened slowly. Too slow that Steve could barely comprehend what was happening. This has happened before, sure, and it has been worse but still. It feels like this is the shittest time around.or, the fic where they grow up together and go through more down's than they ever expected.





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> okay guys so i hope this is realistic and it is coming a of experience but sometimes it can feel really unrealistic when actually written down yikes. trigger warnings for depression and self-harm? also suicidal tendencies and thoughts. title comes from hundred by the fray. the dashes (-----) are a divider of a new year/grade when the stars (******) are a divider for a new scene. also when steve refers to "it" in italics, he means his depression, his self-harm addiction, just his general demons. Just noted that in case any of you guys were confused about that. i'm also going to try and finish this by the end of the month.

He met Bucky Barnes when he was young, before all of this bullshit happened. They were children, ripe age of 6, when it happened. This small moment in youth changed their lives in a way no one could ever expect, but the outcome is what every human being yearns for deep down. A friendship that you can depend on one another constantly, trust each other, and have it last a lifetime. A friendship with few doubts and few low points, maybe even a friendship that results in long-lasting romance and desire to grow old together.

Steve had entered his first grade class, not knowing anybody. Everyone in his previous morning kindergarten class was split up amongst the classes, not like he had been friends with most people anyways. Bucky was there, always there, sitting in his table group. The group had consisted of 4 people, each desk fitting to form a perfect rectangle, but Bucky was the only one who had stood out. He was eccentric, had a smart aleck vibe, in the best way possible. He was as intriguing as a six year old could get.

Steve knew that he needed to be on good terms with at least _one_ person in his class, just in case things took a turn for the worse and he ended up bullied like in kindergarten. God, his small shoulders shuddered at the thought back then. His mother told him, in the kindest way possible, that it was important to have friends. She pointed out, after he frowned, that she would still love him even if he had none. She just wanted her child to be happy

He decided to be assertive, if he just was forward with what he wanted he would be listened to. He knew not to be overly bossy, but only enough that he would have a positive outcome. So, on the third day of school, Steve finally built up enough courage to walk straight up to Bucky, pointed his small index finger at his chest, and said, “Me and you are going to become best friends. I’m Steve.”

Bucky was very confused for a split second, more confused than how kindergartens are on a daily basis. It was a good sixty seconds of pure agony and regret until he looked straight up into Steve’ s oceanic blue eyes and replied simply with, “Okay, I’m Bucky.”

 “What kind of a name is Bucky?” Steve squawked in return.

The two boys quickly became friends, shared crayons, complimented each others drawings, and stood next to each other during ‘sing time’. It wasn’t long until they started having playdates and went to each other's houses, met each other's families. Sarah Rogers, and Winifred Barnes had quickly became each other's second moms, and were happy that the two boys had such a close bond. Steve was a huge worry for Sarah, she was always concerned about her baby boy being bullied, with his scrawny figure. Bucky was good for him, she often thought. They had  easily slipped into each other's lives without friction, almost like completing a puzzle.

The first time they had to be apart was in fifth grade when they finally had different classes. They had been stupidly lucky enough to be in the same class with the same teacher for five years in a row. They had quite literally grown up with each other, but even at the age of 11 they weren’t stupid enough to think they would always be in the same class.

This was one of the toughest roadblocks they had to have to hit in their friendship, even to this day. Steve would never admit it, but he feels like this might be one of the times that started _it._ They barely got to see each other, always buried in homework or family things. Whenever they saw each other, it was never awkward and was still as easy as possible. Until he realized that he just wasn’t important to Bucky anymore. Bucky quickly became friends with almost everyone in the grade and Steve  _knew_ he had been replaced. Steve had stopped showing up where he wasn’t wanted, refused to ever force Bucky into a friendship he didn’t want. He was better than that, stronger than that, smarter than to be that selfish.

Steve began to think about how he was only special to Bucky, and his mom. Nobody else really cared, nobody was there to care. His mom was always at work, and his dad was god knows where. Without Bucky in his life, he thought, he may as well be gone. The thought scared him, he wasn’t sure if he meant dead, or just at a different school. He didn’t know what it meant, what he meant, but he knew it was _true_. He might’ve been young, young enough to barely understand what he meant, but adults always underestimate the depths which a youth’s mind can reach.

Obviously, he wasn’t replaced, because once Steve started acting on-edge around Bucky, Bucky made an effort to see Steve whenever he could. He made sure the friendship wouldn’t wilt away like the decaying flowers of his mom’s garden in the winter. Not at all, their friendship will always be a part of the summer. With the ripe berries, the sun shining on the right angles to make their cheeks glow, and the watermelon juice dripping down their grinning faces. Bucky Barnes had made a promise to himself one day that very year, and the promise was that he would never, _never,_ let their friendship die without trying to fix it. Even at such a young age, their friendship was built on carbon-monoxide based codependency, it was hard to sense the toxicity but when noticed it would be too late. But that is a story for a later time.

They were fixed immediately, and Steve had pushed those dark thoughts so deep he forgot they were there for a few years. He blamed them on puberty, and the current balance in hormones. He wouldn’t feel like this in 9 years time, he thought to himself. He didn’t want to worry his mom, or, oh god, Bucky. Bucky would get so worried, and _fuck_ , he does not want to see how he would get over this. Bucky did not deserve that kind of stress at all, but Steve never really stopped to think whether _him_ , himself deserved to feel the way he did.

 

\----------------

 

The first time Steve realizes he’s gay, or at least bisexual, was coincidentally the same day he started to hurt himself. He never thought much of it before, the way his eyes would linger on other boys the same way they did girls. He never confronted the random thoughts he would have seeing famous men, like Zac Efron in particular, on television. Not until that one day at least.

Steve was in Grade 8, and there is a reason why it’s usually the unanimously one of the worst years of elementary school. One the way home from school he was stopped by an older group of boys, who seemed to be in the year above, which he tried to rush pass because he expected the usual bullying. He didn’t look up to see whether it’s the same group as usual, if he did maybe that anxious pounding in his chest would’ve gone away, and he wouldn’t feel the amount of shock as he does when one of them asks him out.

Surprising, right? He stuttered out that he wasn’t gay, and tried not to think much about it on his way home. Once he got home, he stormed upstairs and locked himself in his room before he began his thinking.

He had told the boy that he wasn’t gay, but fuck, was that the truth? Because the more he seemed to think about it, it wasn’t conclusive. Sure, he had a crush on Peggy Carter, a British student who had only been there for a few months, in the sixth grade. They _had_ dated but it was in the way that twelve year olds usually date. They saw each other a few times at recess, but at most held hands. Still, there was no denying the feelings he had for her. _But,_ the more he thought about it, he wouldn’t be opposed to settling down with a man. Was that short-lived friendship with Tony Stark, who had been transferred to a private school, was as platonic as he had assumed? Him and Bucky have also accidently kissed once, although they never spoke of it.

It was like how everyone would expect, at a fucking sleepover. Late in the night, it was dark, but warm underneath the sheets they had been sharing. They had drowsily pressed lips against lips without realizing, quickly pulled away, and went to bed.

 _Fuck,_ he was definitely at least bisexual. And he had no idea how to deal with it. Sure, it was the 21st century and he was in America, he wasn’t going to be executed or put on death row for liking men. But that doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t be hated, what if he got kicked out of his mom’s house? What if Bucky hates him? What if the bullying got worse? What if h-

His mind backtracked for a second. Oh my god, oh _fuck_ , he thought, what if Bucky _hated_ him? Steve could not even fathom the thought. He rushed into the washroom, and splashed his face with cold water when he saw the razor next to him.

He had never thought about purposefully harming himself before. Sometimes he would subconsciously press his fingernails deep into his skin, barely breaking into skin, while trying to distract himself. It was always by accident though, and he never thought much of it, always removing his hand from the position when realizing. But fuck did he need a distraction right now.

Once wouldn’t hurt, right? He asked himself. He knew that he would stop himself from going too deep, and he knew that it was only for _now_. His fingers slowly trailed towards the box of razor blades.

 _Stop stop stop stop, don’t do it, you’ll regret it, stop stop stop stop,_ his mind played on a loop.

 _“_ But it wouldn’t hurt, it’s just this once _.”_ He justified it to himself, aloud. He grabbed the box, his hands shaking, mind blank. He felt like a robot moving, distant from himself, almost like he wasn’t there. Like he was unplugged from his power source, trying to live on whatever battery he had left. He didn’t have any power to spare to think about his decisions. It felt right, fuck no, it didn’t feel right. But it was what he _needed._ He knew from science class that getting hurt releases endorphins, a chemical that provides pleasure. Right now he needed to fill a bit of pleasure to distract himself from the empty pit placed near his gut. It was just a little bit of pain, to help release the pleasure, it wouldn’t even mean anything in five years, he tried to reason to himself. He didn’t stop to think what Bucky would think if he found out, what his mom would think, he didn’t even stop to just  _think._ He was on autopilot, and had to get to his desired destination.

He slowly opened the box, the cover slide off with ease. It felt almost like it was _too_ easy, _too_ convenient. He grabbed the razor on the top, and rolled down his sleeve. He quickly rinsed the razor, not wanting to get an infection (that way he would _have_ to go to his mom and she would inevitably find out), and closed the tap when done.

Fuck, he thought, he was really going to do this. He was oddly calm, not shaking with tears like he assumed most people were when doing this kind of thing. He slid the razor blade over his pale skin, pale enough he could see him cool-toned veins pop out. He made sure to miss any major veins and just stick to the skin. He slid it over his skin, once, twice, three times for good luck. He was amazed by how quickly the white turned to red, almost shocking. The wound wasn’t deep, just going a little further than the skin, and it barely hurt.

It was only a second later when he had realized what he had just done. He felt nauseous, his hands shaking. There was a pit of anxiety that replaced the former emptiness, and he could feel his heart pound. He rinsed his blood, _fuck it was his blood,_ off the blade and quickly put it back in the box with the others. He felt his chest start to heave, almost like those asthma attacks he used to have as a child but _different._ He cleaned up his mess, and sat on the toilet in shock. He needed to tell somebody, anybody, about what had just happened. He pulled out his phone to see 3 text notifications from Bucky.

_Bucky, 3:35 PM: Where are u man?? I thought you were coming over after school for COD_

 

_Bucky, 3:49 PM: Seriously??? Ur starting 2 worry me man_

 

_Bucky, 4:10 PM: Okay fuck this im coming u better fking have some popcorn_

 

 _Fuck,_ Bucky had sent that over 10 minutes ago, and that meant he should be here in a few minutes. Steve knew that Bucky would find out anyways, they changed together in the same room too many times for him to be able to ignore the huge gash down Steve’s arm.

 

_Steve,4:23 PM: i’m in my washroom, let ur sl ef in nand please come u p_

 

Steve’s hands were still shaking, preventing him from being able to avoid any typos. If he would’ve tried to type without typos, it would’ve taken over 5 tries. He heard the front door open, and knew that this was it. He was beginning to feel nauseous again. He heard the familiar foot pattern of Bucky’s footsteps coming up the stairs, too heavy to be his mom’s, too careful to be anyone else.

“Steve?” He knocked tentatively at the door, “I got your text, I’m coming in okay?”

“Okay.” Steve uttered hoarsely. Fuck why is his throat so dry? He hadn’t cried but it had felt like he was.

Bucky slowly entered the room, not prepared for what was behind the door. Judging from the texts, he knew that Steve was probably hurt, he just assumed it was a bully on the way home. The assholes who could never keep their fists, and their mouths to themselves. Steve knew what the scene looked like, and could feel Bucky’s eyes drift over everything. The blood splatters still left in the sink, the razor blade box on the counter, Steve with red all over his fingertips, cornered on the toilet seat.

Steve _knew_ what it looked like, and it looked exactly how it was. There was no denying it. He could see confusion cloud Bucky’s vision, the realization dawning on him and the watering in his best friend’s clouded grey eye’s. It had all felt so slow, he has never felt as vulnerable as he did with Bucky staring at his harmful work on his wrist. Not when the bullies wouldn’t quit even after he was bloody all over, not when he had pneumonia and was stuck in a hospital bed, not even when he had the flu and was going in and out of being lucid, not being able to differentiate reality from illusion.  

“Steve, why? Why did you do this?” Bucky croaked, sounding as close to tears as Steve had been moments before. “I thought, was it something I did? Was, was it because of the bullies? Wait, Steve was this the first time? Please, _please,_ tell me it was.”

“Bucky, I’m fucking gay, or at least bisexual.” Steve decided to stammer out, instead of revealing his true insecurities about Bucky hating him.

“What the _fuck_ , Steve?” Bucky snapped towards him, “I swear to god, if you did this because you’re gay, what the actual _fuck_?” He was murmuring the last bit to himself. “Steve, bro, I don’t care if you’re fucking gay, bisexual, or whatever. Just please fucking promise me that you won’t ever do this again, that it’s only this one time. The last time.”

Steve didn’t know if he could promise truthfully. He had regretted it afterwards, but he knew that he was already craving it again. He could feel the numbness of the wound from the blood loss, could feel the blood that crawled under his fingernails from holding the razor and blood from his arm drying, could taste the metallic of the blood on his tongue. So he couldn’t say anything short of a lie, knowing that he couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop after this.

“I promise, Buck.” He had said instead of saying what he was actually thinking, knowing it would only be a cause for concern.

It was one of the few times he had lied to Bucky up to that point.

 

\-----------

 

It was the middle of freshman year and they had finally finished their first ever exams. It was the end of January, and the first month of the year had already been stressful enough. Steve had an amazing new year’s, thanks to Bucky, and it was incidentally the first time he did a _lot_ of things.

On New Year’s Eves, Bucky brought Steve to a random party that he heard about from one of the guys on the volleyball team, who Bucky hangs with sometimes. Steve asked a million times if it was okay if he showed up, he wasn’t bullied as much in this new school but was rather invisible, and Bucky insisted that it was okay and everyone already expected Steve to be with him, since they “did everything together”. New Year’s Eve was, let’s just say it was downright _wild._ Everybody accepted both of them with open arms, and it was fucking amazing. Steve got so drunk, for the first time mind you, that he ended up barely remembering the night. He felt happy, being intoxicated out of his mind. He also felt regret later that night when he spent two hours fluctuating from throwing up and taking naps on Bucky’s toilet, yes _on_ his toilet, like his head rested on the place where one would sit.

He had felt nauseous and hungover for a week but it was the happiest he felt in forever. Things did not start looking up from that one moment in grade 8, and exactly how he thought it would turn out. All of those thoughts that Steve had once pushed away at a young age suddenly surfaced, and it was close to impossible to ignore when alone.

Luckily he had studies to focus on, and Bucky who he spent most of his time with. Like how he was supposed to right now, except Bucky was late. Steve was waiting for him, along with their new friends Natasha and Clint, so they could go celebrate the end of exams. They were at the bench outside the library, far enough to have privacy but close enough to not miss Bucky exit the building. It was cold outside, cold enough in a way they could see their breath when speaking. Everyone in the group was bundled up, except for Natasha who was only wearing a simple bomber jacket because, “Steve I grew up in communist Russia, I think I can handle a little bit of New York’s supposed cold.”

“Who wants to bet that he got held behind after his exams because he was being disruptive or some shit?” Clint asked no-one in particular, humour flashing in his eyes. Bucky was known for being a troublemaker so nobody was going to try and bet against Clint. Natasha rolled her eyes fondly, and nudged her friend’s shoulder.

“Look, there he is.” Natasha said as she spotted her friend, exiting the school. Bucky walked up to them, fastening his pace. He looked excited, as usual. As soon as he arrived at his friends, the biggest grin spread across his face.

“Man, what the hell took you so long? And why do you look like you’re on 10 different drugs?” Clint exclaimed, hands numb from the cold.

“See, my friends, you guys are going to write my name in history books after I tell you.” Bucky said happily, the rest of the group sharing a sarcastic ‘sure man, we totally believe you’ look.

“I just snagged us a bottle of Crown from the seniors!” Bucky practically screamed, inappropriately due to the actual content of the words.

“Okay man take back my harsh words, I appreciate you and I love you.” Clint laughed, only half-joking. “Now let’s go back to mine and get completely shitfaced!”

The rest of the group screamed in agreement, finally excited to be letting off some steam. Steve was happy, he has only gotten completely pissed once in his life, and he would love to do it again. It was a plus that Clint’s parents were out of town that week too, and they could all sleep over.

They had all made their way to Clint’s small house, that was near the school. His family was small, only consisting of his foster parents and Clint, so they didn’t need much space. It was a simple house, but still rather beautiful in Steve’s opinion.

Steve and Bucky had only met Clint at the beginning of the school year, but they had quickly become friends. Clint was in the same first-period English class as the two, and sat right in front of Steve. He gave off a really laidback vibe, but still backed up Steve in a heated argument with how another student said that it was unrealistic to cast people of colour in historical films. He always had a huge coffee first period, and one day he even brought an entire fucking pot. It didn’t take long for Clint to join the boys for lunch, and not too long after Natasha joined, meeting Bucky in the Russian class.

Clint’s driveway was empty, reassuring the fact that his parents were away for the rest of the weekend. Their final exam was on Friday, so that meant they had the entire weekend to cure the inevitable hangover.

They entered the house, making the note to take off their shoes so there was no snow tracking through the house.

“I’m gonna go set up everything, just put on a movie or something.” Clint yelled out, while walking towards the kitchen with anticipation on his face.

“I’ll come and help you, give the lovebirds some time alone.” Natasha replied, walking towards the kitchen, winking at the boys. Steve and Bucky stared at each other for a minute before bursting out with laughter.

“C’mon, help me pick a movie, punk.” Bucky muttered happily at Steve. He sat on the floor, going through Netflix on Clint’s Xbox, which was hooked up to the TV.

“Honestly, fight me. Let’s pick one of those really bad lifetime movies.” Steve said sarcastically, going to sit down next to Bucky. Bucky obviously disagreed, opting for a horror movie instead. Steve reasoned with him by saying that someone is going to get scared and end up spilling the bottle, probably Clint.

Once they had finally settled on a movie, some random rom-com so they could make fun of it, Clint and Natasha came out of the kitchen holding disposable cups, the bottle of Crown, and a variety of pop cans.

“Let the drinking begin.” Natasha joked darkly, humour lacing her voice.

And, oh how they began. It wasn’t long until they were all laughing at nothing, slurring their words, and feeling all kinds of emotions within a five-minute span. One second Steve was sitting up straight, laughing at the stupid movie they put on and the next he started to cry when his cup was empty.

“Here, Steve, let me get your drunk, I mean your drink, for you.” Bucky laughed, stumbling while standing up and reaching for his best friend’s empty cup.

“Bucky, no this is my drink. Mine, not yours.” Steve slurred, hugging his cup to his chest and staring at Bucky like he was about to take the only thing that had meaning in his pitiful life. Ha, he thought, Bucky’s face kind of looked like a frog when he was drunk. Or like that one Sesame Street character, Bernie? Not Bernie, Bert!

“What? I do _not_ look like Bert!” He squawked, looking wildly offended. Oops, he didn’t mean to say that aloud.

“Guys, guys, _guys.”_ Clint shouted at them, trying to get their attention. “Let’s play a game! We never play drunk games, I wanna play monopoly!”

“ _Or_ , we could play truth or dare?” Natasha suggested, seemingly close to being sober although she drank the most out of the group. Whoever taught her how to hold her alcohol needed to give Steve a lesson. Or five.

“I vote for truth or dare!” Bucky shouted from the floor where he somehow got back to. Clint pouted, staring at Steve like he was trying to convince him to play a board game with his eyes. Clint knew that it wouldn’t work, because Steve and Bucky almost always chose the same option. It wasn’t because they always had the same opinions, but because they were always there for each other. Whether it was a stupid game vote, or something more serious. If it was a time where they each had polar opposite views that they were passionate about, they promised never to push it further and try to guilt-trip one another into believing their way.

“Sorryyy, Clinty. I vote for whatever, whatever um, Bucky is going for!” Steve slurred, slowly. When did words get so complicated, he thought to himself. Why was it suddenly so hard to speak properly? Oh yeah, because he was drunk for only the second time in his life.

The group slowly set up into the truth or dare circle, stumbling slowly into pace. Steve wasn’t dreading it until now, when he realized that he fucking hated truth or dare. He always got the short end of the stick, either not being picked or only getting picked so he could be made fun of. Although, even in his drunken state, he trusted his group of friends not to treat him like this.

The game started out slow, vaguely boring. Everyone except for Natasha opting for truth, afraid of the crazy dares they knew their friends would come up with. Natasha was fearless, shameless, and frankly didn’t care about how she would be thought of. In the group of boys, Natasha still had more balls than them all. The night, however, drastically changed as they got more intoxicated. Everyone laughing, and asking the weirdest questions. Bucky was even dared to blend some vodka they found, with a shitload of kale and cream cheese and then drink it all. Surprisingly enough, he did.

“Oh my god, _Bucky,_ I didn’t really expect you to do it!” Clint said through laughter. He had been the one to dare Bucky, and personally, Steve couldn’t stop laughing through it all. It was only a second after when Bucky was beginning to laugh, but instead bent over and threw up in Clint’s mother’s plant pot. Regret and remorse flooded his face, which was slowly turning green again. Steve stood up right away, and went to go comfort his best friend.

“Bucky, come on, let me help you.” He slurred his words, stumbling slightly while standing up.

“Steve, I’m more sober than you. It’s okay I can walk him to the washroom.” Natasha said calmly, yet forceful. “It would do more harm if you tried to help him in this state.”

“But, but, I’m his best friend!” Steve exclaimed, like there was nothing else in the world that mattered. He was Bucky’s best friend, and he should be the one to take care of him! If not by want, then at least but from obligation.

“Steve, honey, it’s okay, Let me just walk him to the washroom and settle him, If he doesn’t come back in a few minutes then you can check up on him, alright?”

That sounded fair, Steve thought. He still crossed his arms and nodded like a child. He knew he was acting petulant but give him a break, he’s piss drunk. He sat back down, as slowly as he could without throwing up himself. He looked at Clint, who had confusion written all over his face. His eyebrows were furrowed, yet his features were still soft. They made eye contact for a second, before drunkenly roaring with laughter. What were they laughing at? He had no idea, it was still funny.

 

******

 

Steve woke up, with a pounding headache, in a bed that wasn’t his. Next to him laid Bucky, his hair ruffled and soft. He seemed to be asleep, and his arm was pressed tightly around Steve. This moment would be amazing, if only he wasn’t grossly hungover. He didn’t remember getting into bed, let alone much after Bucky drinking that horrid concoction. He felt a cold draft for a second, and panicked because fuck he was still wearing his clothes right? Before _it_ Steve would just sleep in his boxers with Bucky, not thinking much of it but now he had to cover his scars. He could feel his heart pounding at Bucky figuring out what he has been doing to his thighs for the past year. He looked down to see, thankfully, that his sweatpants had only rolled up a little bit in his sleep, no longer covering his calves. Relief coursed through his veins, still not powerful enough to cure his currently painful hangover.  He tried to get up, in a way that wouldn’t wake up Bucky, soon finding it to be close to impossible. As soon as he moved, he heard his best friend groaned and cling onto him tighter.

“Bucky, pal, I need to get some water, okay?” He tried to say as calm as possible, only slightly irritated by his current position.

“Pleasee, I just wanna stay here forever. I’m so warm, so comfortable.” Bucky whined.

“How about this? I get up, get us both water and try to convince Barton to make us some bacon.”

“Yes, bacon, please Stevie.” Bucky said, his words muffled by the fact he was resting his head in the crook of Steve’s neck. Steve laughed, knowing that Bucky didn’t hear most of his words. He untangled himself from the current mess that was formerly known as 'Bucky Barnes’. He got up, and walked towards the kitchen, where Natasha was. She was standing near the sink, on her phone. When she saw Steve she looked up, and silently handed over one of the four glasses of water that were beside her on the counter. Steve took a big gulp of the water, finishing half the glass in one take. The water was as cold as ice, and did the perfect job of waking him up. It slightly relieved his headache, and he felt blessed. Natasha waited until he finished his water to start a conversation.

“Steve, you know, you can talk to us about anything right? It’s not a burden.” She stated, trailing off. Steve automatically began to feel the panic rise through his body, all the way to his throat. Fuck, she knew. How did she know? It wasn’t until then that Steve realized that he wasn’t wearing sweatpants the day before, and somebody had to change him. He didn’t know what to say, knowing that she probably saw the deep gash that he had made only a few days prior to relieve his exam stress. There was no denying it, but he was _not_ comfortable having a conversation about this. Not now, not yet. The wounds were still fresh, mentally and physically.

Instead of acknowledging her words, he simply said, “Bucky wants some bacon, do you know if Clint has any?”

And that was the end of that. For now.

The conversation had quickly changed, and Steve was glad he had a friend like Natasha. She knew that he was uncomfortable, and didn’t push it. There was nothing she could’ve said to change anything anyways, he thought to himself.

The rest of the morning was spent with the four of them nursing their hangovers. Natasha and Steve made the bacon in comfortable, slightly awkward silence. He could hear the sizzling of the bacon louder than anything, and it muted his dark thoughts for as long as possible. He tried not to spew in self-hatred because Natasha would know, she always knew. He kept himself distracted, and if he rested his hand on the hottest part of the pan’s handle, nobody needed to know. They didn’t need to know about the pain that shot through his nerves, and kept him on fire. How it didn’t leave a mark, but was hot enough to sting. It calmed down whatever anxiety that had stirred within him when Natasha brought up _it._ Once they had finished the bacon, the red mark on Steve’s palm slowly faded away before anyone could see or bring it up. Steve had a sick feeling of pride when he realized he actually gotten away with something, without Natasha noticing. It was fucked up, but he couldn’t control when that thought flashed through his brain.

Bucky and Clint slowly woke up, and drank their water. They were sitting at the table, both whining about how bad of a hangover they had. Steve and Natasha laughed, and he was happy that they were making enough noise that not even Bucky could hear the false humour in his laugh. Bucky usually would be able to detect that kind of thing, and it was a blessing _and_ a curse, simultaneously. It was close to impossible for Steve to lie to her best friend, so he had to come up with an obscure version of the truth. Something that wasn’t fake, but also wasn’t the full story.

That one lie in Grade 8 started it all, started a snowball of lies that led up to the point where it is today. One year later, and Steve still couldn’t fathom lying to his best friend. That didn’t stop him though, and he hated himself for it. He hated himself for being so selfish and disgusting, and the worst part in their friendship. He knew that Bucky _never_ lied to him, and that was all Steve seemed to be doing lately. He wasn’t going to kid himself into thinking that what he was doing was right, even if it was the fraction of the truth. Being technically true doesn’t equal to being completely honest. It made him feel like shit, and only led to more of him harming himself.

When the morning was done, they had all decided to clean up Barton’s house and then part ways. Thankfully, nobody threw up in the living room (except for Bucky and the plant) and had kept the mess in the washroom and in plastic bags. It didn’t take long to remove the horrid puke stench from the house, after they used up two full bottles of air freshener. Cleaning up a house while being hungover is not fun, for anyone, but they managed to do it. It was almost cleaner than prior to their arrival. Steve and Bucky were in charge of chucking away the empty bottles in a trash can on the way home, that way Clint’s parents wouldn’t find out about it. They spent a good two hours cleaning up the household, and then collected their stuff to go home,

The two best friends walked home together, with conversations filled with laughter. Their faces only that joyful in each other’s presence. Bucky’s smile as bright as the snow surrounding them, reflecting light and happiness onto Steve. The most at peace Steve has ever felt was next to Bucky. He had an atmosphere that was near to impossible to be upset around. He illuminated every room he entered, every street he walked on, every person he was next to. He seemed to be related to the sun, providing energy and light for those who are blessed with his presence. Steve always felt warm when lathered with his attention, and at comfort knowing a person like Bucky existed in the world. The only time Steve loved himself was when he managed to make his best friend’s body shudder with laughter, the noise sounding like it was produced by the angels and the dead composer’s above.

Steve and him walked in the same direction, having to split up at the end of one of the streets. They trashed the empty bottles with no suspects around, and finally came the point where they always left each other. They said their goodbyes, and just like that Steve’s happiness was gone. It wasn’t sure if it was fake or real, _(it had to be real, it was always real around Bucky),_ but he still had no illuminated happiness that could reflect onto himself. He was finally left alone to his thoughts, and he couldn’t deal with them today. He was hungover, and tired. (Steve is always tired, _always,_ but more so today.) He put in his earbuds, and tried to arrive home quickly as possible. He passed by the senior citizens walking through the streets, the children playing with snow, while the parents are watching from their porch. He passed by other hungover teens, and people that are leaving to get to work. He finally got home, to notice his mother’s car gone from the driveway. _Great_ , he thought, his mom was at work again. He unlocked the door, and stormed to his room only to succumb to those rushing thoughts in his brain that _wouldn’t quit._

 

******

 

It was only a few days later when their mini-break after exams had ended, and everyone had to go back to school. Steve had not been looking forward to this, barely being able to get out of bed the past few days. Bucky had been over at his grandparents with his younger sister Rebecca, and his mom had been at work so there was nobody to really make him get out of bed. The few days have been going through a haze of just sleeping. It was only Steve had the energy to do. He knew that eventually it would pass, these kind of phases always did, but it was fucking horrible having to experience them. The shitty part is that he thought he was doing better. Sure, he hurt himself, and often too, but he hasn’t felt unable to get out of bed, or even eat in ages. Hopefully, school would shake him out of this and make him feel better.

Steve woke up at exactly 7:30 am, realizing that if he didn’t want him and Bucky to be late he needed to get out of bed, _now._ He has to be outside the school at 8 o’clock sharp, and it was at least a ten minute walk for him and Bucky. Steve quickly used the washroom, and tried to organize himself for the day. He called out to see if his mom was home, but she wasn’t. Of course. He quickly changed into something comfortable, sweatpants and a black t-shirt that hung low on his small figure. Before leaving he had made sure he had a razor, not a big one but one that was rather small and was hard to see if you weren’t looking for it, in his bag. _Just in case_ , he would reason to himself. He grabbed an apple, and he was out the door, walking towards the intersection that him and Bucky last parted ways at, after hanging at Clint’s. Barely anybody was out this early in the morning and it was almost peaceful. The trees were still bare, snow covering all of the grass around him. He took bites out of his apple, the juice running down his face, while walking towards the corner they always met up at.

He spotted Bucky down the street, walking as quick as his gangly teenage boy legs would let him. Steve was always kind of jealous of Bucky’s legs, so long and muscular, while Steve was stuck with short tree-stumps. He tried to shake the thought away, when he realized that Bucky was approaching him.

“Stevie, I missed you so much this weekend!” Bucky practically yelled, when he was closer to his best friend. “Rebecca wouldn’t stop talking, and my grandparents kept hitting me with their slippers whenever I tried to eat more cake!”

Steve and him laughed. Rebecca was only eleven years old, but was a fucking firecracker. She was always filled with energy, and never stopped talking. It was good that she was such a happy child though, something Steve didn’t get to experience much. The two boys started making their way towards the school.

“Tell Beccs I say hi later, Buck. And they wouldn’t hit you if you waited to eat cake.” Steve replied, his mood already lifting from earlier.

“You know what, you little punk? I think you’re right.” They both laughed.

Their conversation on the way to school was them catching up from the past few days. Bucky had an overall great time at his grandparents, sans slipper-hitting. He went to his family’s lake house, where his grandparents had been living. The lake had frozen over, according to Bucky, but they still tried to skate over it. The ice was starting to break but thankfully nobody had gotten hurt. Steve however, told Bucky that he just spent a few days catching up on rest after exams, and curing a long-lived hangover. It was the better version of the truth, but again, it wasn’t a lie.

They got to school and went to their separate lockers, promising to see each other at lunch. Steve went to get his books out of his locker, and was tempted to just slam his fingers when closing it. Would it hurt? Would they bleed or just swell? He wondered if they would turn purple and numb. He was stuck in his thoughts when Natasha shook him out of them.

“Hey man, what’s up? You look like shit.” Natasha told him, coming up behind him.

“Geez Natasha, talk dirty to me some more, it’s getting me so hot.” Steve drawled sarcastically. He knew she was just a blunt person, but fuck he was _not_ in the mood for it today.

“What crawled up _your_ ass and died?”

“What do you want Natasha?” He asked instead of replying with an insult. He was agitated, sure, but that didn’t mean he was going to start a fight because of it. He knew that he wasn’t irritated _because_ of Natasha, more so from his lack of sleep the prior nights.

“I just wanted to remind you of what I said the other day. I promise I won’t tell Barnes, but you have to let him know eventually, okay?” Natasha replied, traces of implication found in her words. What the fuck?,

“Stop Natasha, you don’t even know what you’re talking about.” Steve growled, angry that Natasha thought that she knew not only _him,_  but his struggles.

“Please. I know more than you think I do, and what you’re doing is going to not only fuck _you_ up, but fuck up the people around you.” She replied, with a vague anger in her voice. More than anger, she sounded knowledgeable and certain about her words. Steve could feel his heart pound through his chest, and his hands starting to shake. This always happened whenever he was anxious and he _hated_ it, _hated_ how obvious his anxiety could be. The root of this anxiety was, again, Bucky being hurt because of him. _Fuck_ , it was all his fault. Everything was his fault. Why the fuck couldn’t he just be normal, and not hurt everyone around him by just trying to cope? It was only a coping mechanism, it was never meant to be the monster it had grown into today. He quickly shook out of his thoughts, putting back on his facade. Acting as if he hadn’t thought anything just moments before.

“Fuck you.” He seethed, no real heat left in his voice, only frustration and tiredness.

It was only then when Natasha went to slam his locker shut for him. He hadn’t even realized it was still open. Her sleeve had fallen down to her elbow, and that’s when Steve finally had a proper look at her arm. Lying there were thin scars, faint, but visible. He asked himself how he had never seen those before, but he was never looking out for them. Relief flooded through his body when he realized the scars were all old, and fading. They couldn’t have been more than a year old.

Maybe she did know what she was talking about, he thought.

 

*******

 

February was one of the worst months for Steve and his mom. He, himself would be reminded about how painstakingly single he was when all of his friends were going out with other people. Bucky had been going on and off with a girl Dottie Underwood since they came back from break. She was gorgeous, strawberry blonde hair against her pale skin with deep blue eyes to match. Everytime Steve saw her and Bucky together, he felt this indescribable pain shooting through his gut. Clint and Natasha have been on the line of dating for the past few weeks, seemingly unaware of each other’s feelings. If only they knew, they would be the perfect match for one another. Steve finds it vaguely funny that these two pain who loved each other so openly, couldn’t see that it wasn’t unrequited.

It wasn’t only a tough month for him, but also Sarah Rogers. Steve knew that every day leading up to Valentine's day, she only became progressively more upset. Steve always assumed it was because of his father, who left them both when Steve was barely a month old. It was hard on Sarah, mainly on this time of year. She spent more time at home, taking one or two sick days to take care of herself this time of year. When Steve was young, they used to play hooky and go watch movies at the cheap theatre downtown. But Steve was no longer young, and these “sick” days were spent with Sarah in her room with Steve asking if she needed anything, soup, maybe some tea. He did so willingly, but still felt some frustration course through his body because it should be _her_ helping her son, comforting him, being there for him. Sure Steve loved his mom, and appreciated everything she’s done for him, but he was still lucky if he got to see her more than once a week.

It was shitty, sure, but Steve knew that other people had it worse. He wasn’t allowed to feel upset like this, when other people were leaving on the streets barely getting by. He had even mentioned this to Bucky, how he didn’t feel allowed to be upset against this. It only brought up a frequent argument of theirs. It had all started like this:

“Hey Stevie, what time is your mom coming home tonight? I wanna know so we can plan out our movies.” Bucky had asked from the floor in front of Steve’s couch, legs crossed, while flipping through a pile of movies. It was their newly reinstated Friday night movie marathon, and Steve assumed he wanted to watch the worse movies, with more violence and nudity, before Sarah came home.

“I’m not sure, I don’t think she’s coming home till tomorrow because she has a double shift.”

Bucky eyebrows shot up in concern, his eyes wide. “Isn’t this the third set of double shifts _this week?_ Have you just been looking after yourself all this time? When was the last time you saw her?” Worry was prominent in his voice as he made eye contact with his best friend.

“It’s alright, Buck. I get along fine, and a lot of kids have it worse.” Steve pointed out, forcing himself to be nonchalant.

“No it’s not! You’re allowed to be upset about this! You don’t have to force yourself not to care. Steve.”

“Yes I _do,”_ Steve started, feeling the anger rise from within, “If I begin to feel upset about it, I won’t fucking stop and I’d be stuck in bed for a week, _again.”_ He hadn’t realized what he said, blinded by anger. He didn’t stop to think about the fact that he told his best friend about his current unhappiness about life.

“Wait Steve, what do you mean again? Was it really that bad?” Bucky pleaded, trying to make some sort of contact with Steve who was forcing himself to stare at the television and flip through the channel. Steve felt nauseous, his best friend had just admitted about knowing about _it._

“What do you mean?” Steve was still trying to put on a calm facade, while Bucky was practically pacing around his living room.

“The days where you wouldn’t want to leave your bed! Where you would insist everything was fine, when I knew, _I knew_ , that you were lying to me! Fuck, I’m so sorry Steve, I thought giving you space was going to help you. Natasha told me that I should wait till you’re comfortable, to bring anything up. _Fuck._ ” Bucky rambled, his rant seemingly never ending. Steve never felt like more shit in his entire life. He should’ve known that Bucky knew, he knew everything about Steve. Bucky’s pupils were wide, the grey ring so thin around his eyes. He looked wildly panicked, his hair a ruffled mess. Steve was still on the fucking couch with the remote in his hand. He could feel himself shaking from anxiety, not sure whether or not it was real or fake. He needed to get better. Natasha’s words from a month ago floated through his brains. He didn’t need to tell him _everything,_ but maybe the vague concept would work, even though he didn’t want to. He had to force himself to, because letting _it_ go on was doing more harm than anything.

“Buck, I’m sorry, really sorry about not telling you, okay? I didn’t want you to worry,” He started, noticing Bucky about to protest. “ _Yes Bucky, I know that’s not my place to say anything blah blah blah_ , but let me finish. I didn’t know that it was this obvious but I promise you, right here, right now, that I’m going to try to get better. It’s been a fucking year and nothing seems to be looking up. I just, if I’m going to pull this off I’m going to need your help, only if you want though.” Steve finished, knowing that his words were not as long as they seemed but it felt as if he finished a 30 minute speech. His brain was yelling at him, saying _stupid stupid stupid,_ and, _he’s going to hate you now because you’re so fucking weak,_ on a loop. Why couldn’t his own thoughts shut up, for once?

Bucky seemed to ponder for a moment, taking in all of the words his best friend had previously said. Steve was scared, scared that he was going to reject him. Scared that Bucky would think that he was a burden, and shove him off to the side. Bucky was all that Steve has ever known, and he doesn’t know what he would do without Bucky in his life. Bucky was his other half, in the most platonic way possible.

Just when Steve thought Bucky was going to reveal his deeply buried hatred for his broken friend, he proved him wrong by saying the eleven most important words that have ever been shared between them during the entire friendship.

“Okay, I’m with you to the end of the line, pal.”

 

*******

 

It was the nearing the end of June, and things have been looking up for Steve. Almost done his freshman year of high school, and he was passing his classes with a B average, his depression not affecting his classwork. It might’ve been because he drowned himself in school work instead of being alone with his thoughts, but he wasn’t one to dwell on that. The most important thing is that Steve _survived,_ _he really did it._  He didn’t expect actually _living_ through this year but oh god, he did. Steve had been feeling genuinely happy the entire month, even through his final exams. Maybe he was getting better, truly getting better. The thought scared him, in the best way possible.

One of the most important things to Steve was that he was clean for a month! An entire month! He wasn’t trying to purposefully be clean, but it had just happened. Somewhere in between hanging out with his friends, and studying for exams he had just forgotten to hurt himself.

Sometimes he would at least snap a rubber band against his skin, or dig his fingernails into his skin, but it didn’t count if it didn’t leave a mark (or that was at least what he told himself.) He no longer felt hopeless, he thought, and that was all that matters. He didn’t feel nauseous at the thought of doing anything other than stay in bed, and had the motivation to get up even when Bucky wasn’t around. His mom was even working a little bit less, and actually talking to him.

Since February he felt himself reborn with the flowers and trees. Everything blossomed to become bright and colourful, and there might’ve been some rain but it only helped him _grow._ The cold wind went away, and he no longer felt like a rose decaying without proper care. He was the flower that thrived under attention of direct sunlight. And oh, how Bucky was the sun. He was the reason Steve was sprouting with his care and compassion. He glowed, was radiant, was the reason for the seasons changing. He was the power source that kept the friendship alive, and Steve doesn’t know what he would do without him.

The four of them had still yet decided what exactly they were going to do to celebrate the end of the year, surviving the first chapter of high school. Steve was laying on his bed, with the group chat opened on their phone. They had been discussing random jams happening in the neighbourhood, but Steve had rather cuddle with Bucky on his couch, with a bottle of vodka, and his friend around them. Chances are that wasn’t highly improbable, but he didn’t want to take away his friend’s token high school experiences. He decided to grow up and at least suggest it to them, if only as a back-up plan.

 **Steve, 3:45 pm:** guys why don’t we just find someone to buy a bottle, go over to mine and chill n watch some fuking netflix

 **Steve, 3:46 pm:** or we can just use that as a back up plan becaue like idk if you guys wanna party or not, it might be more relaxinf to just stay indoors tho idrc

 **Bucky, 3:48 pm:** im done!!! im so run down from exams!!! lets do that !!!

 **Natasha, 3:55 pm:** i can get the bottle. urs @ 6?

 **Clint, 4:12 pm:** wwait wiat iwat, what’s happneing?? no partay? im so conf sued

 **Natasha, 4:15 pm:** ur always confused

 **Clint, 4:16 pm:** ur right but u still love meeeeeee

 

Steve laughed, turning off his phone. He didn’t really want to deal with the inevitable flirting that was about to happen in the group chat. He was glad that Natasha and Clint finally gotten together, no matter how much of the unavoidable third-wheeling he had to experience. Thanks to Natasha and her never dying mysterious persona, they never had excessive PDA which Steve was forever grateful for.

They had gotten together only a little while after Steve and Bucky’s Talk™, and everyone was happy for them. When Steve first heard about the news he thought that fucking finally they got together after spending months oblivious of each other’s feelings. He didn’t know how it was possible to be quite honest. Steve was still ecstatic for them, because if there was any high school couple to _make_ it, it was Clint and Natasha.

Steve busied himself by cleaning up his living room quite a bit. It was only 4:30, and he still had an hour and a half to waste before anyone was going to come over. Chances are Bucky might be going to come by a little earlier, like always, to make sure that he’s doing okay and to help organize anything. Steve used whatever time he had left (one hour, an exact hour he thought to himself) to quickly shower, and change. He made sure to change into something comfortable, so he wouldn’t have a repeat from the last time everyone got drunk together. He didn’t need Natasha to see those scratch marks on his thighs that _didn’t count,_ because it had barely bled.

Before he knew it, it was 6 o’clock and his friends were banging on his front door.

“Steveeeeee, come open the door it’s way too hot outside.” He heard who he assumed was Clint yell.

“Clint! Don’t be so rude.” Natasha’s voice followed after, but there was no real heat in her tone.

Steve rushed to go let his friends inside, and they instantly moaned from cold draft coming from inside.

“Hey, punk.” Bucky said softly, pulling him into a quick hug while the rest followed them inside.

“Jerk.” Steve replied, returning the gesture but lazily wrapping one arm around Bucky’s waist for a split second.

Steve chuckled at Clint’s inability to take off his shoes, telling them that he was still organizing the drinks in the kitchen. Natasha offered to come help, since she was the one with the bottle, while Bucky and Clint decided they were going to pick me a movie.

Natasha entered the kitchen following behind Steve. He got out the soda, and a bag of chips in case they got hungry but were too lazy and drunk to get up. Natasha pulled out a bottle of vodka from her bag, and Steve wasn’t even sure how it fit in there.

“How’s it going, Steve?” She asked him, Steve knowing the real insinuation behind the words.

“I’m doing a lot better, Nat. Thanks for talking to me all those months ago.” He replied truthfully. If it hadn’t been for Natasha he felt as if he would’ve continued lying to Bucky.

“I’m glad. Now let’s get fucking shitfaced and forget this year ever happened.” They both laughed, grabbing everything to bring to the boys who were currently in the living room. They had been choosing a show to watch while playing numerous drinking games. Bucky refused to play any other games, especially truth or dare, after the last time in January. Turns out the two boys had decided on watching Jeopardy of all things. He didn’t know what was wrong with his friends.

The rules of the game was to do a shot whenever you answered something wrong, or when you answered it right you could give it to anybody. It didn’t take long for everyone to get pissed, and decide to put on a movie instead. Clint was the worst at the game, always guessing wrong and when he did guess right he would just give the shot to himself. It was a short-lived mess, but it definitely was an experience. 

It wasn’t long after when everything was cuddling on the couches, watching whatever crappy movie seemed good to them in their intoxicated state. Steve’s small figure was pressed against Bucky’s chest, his arm wrapped tightly around Steve’s stomach. Natasha and Clint were in a similar position, but Steve wasn’t paying a lot of attention towards them. He cared more about the warmth that was radiating off Bucky, giving him more proof that Bucky was the sun. Steve has never felt more comfortable in his life has he had right now in his best friend’s arms. He turned his head to see Bucky’s face, not quite sure why but he had the sudden urge to. As soon as they made eye contact, their faces so close together, Bucky and him began to grin. Bucky flashed his white teeth, and for a second Steve could swear he was painstakingly sober. He loved Bucky. What the fuck? He loved Bucky, in a way that was more than platonic. Fuck,

“Hey, you okay?” Bucky asked softly, noticing his sudden change in attitude. 

Steve nodded, and gave him a soft smile. He didn’t know what to think and could feel himself being intoxicated to another level. He probably wouldn’t even remember this in the morning he thought to himself. He snuggled up against to Bucky’s warmth some more, attempting to forget his previous thoughts. It didn’t matter, he thought drunkenly, because it would only be another thing for him to be depressed about. Even in his head he felt like he was slurring his words, and it was kind of hilarious. He turned around and laid his head against Bucky’s head, ready to fucking pass out.

“Goodnight, Buck.” He whispered to Bucky, lifting his head to press a soft slight kiss to Bucky’s lips without thinking about it. He could feel Bucky freeze against him for a moment, but he was already back on Bucky’s chest half a second away from sleeping.

He heard Bucky whisper, "Goodnight, Stevie." before pressing a kiss to his best friend's soft blonde hair, right before Steve passed out.

 


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sophomore year+junior year
> 
> tw for self harm, consensual underage sex (both members are under 18), suicidal thoughts, warning signs of substance abuse, overall angst
> 
> also guys this is it for the first part!! it ended up being really long, so i'm making senior year as a prologue for the second part. enjoy!!
> 
> p.s sorry this took almost a month it was like 11k more than I expected it to be ngl

 

 

It was September, three months after Steve realized his achingly prominent feelings for Bucky. He swore that he was better, that he was doing okay, but the start of sophomore year didn’t seem to like that idea ** _._ ** The colours of the leaves were changing and he thought, he swore, that he was changing too ** _._ ** He was three weeks into school, and was already digging his grave. He was so tired all the time, and he prayed it was because of his overload of work. He knew deep down that it wasn’t that though, and _it_ was creeping back into the dark corners of his mind.

It happened slowly. Too slow that Steve could barely comprehend what was happening. This has happened before, sure, and it has been worse but still. It feels like this is the shittest time around. He didn’t realize that his old routine from earlier in the year began to rise again until he stopped and took a serious look at his life. He began to sleep too much, he barely ate, and only ever left his house for school. The past few weeks were supposed to be _easy_ , he thought. It was only the beginning of school, they shouldn’t have already been buried alive underneath mountains of work. It was stressful, for everyone. Other than his and Bucky’s usual Friday night movie marathons, he swore he didn’t do anything but sleep, go to school, come home, do homework, eat, then go back to sleep. He was lucky if he remembered to eat more than one meal a day. It definitely wasn’t helping his skinny figure, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about that.

It’s so frustrating, this always happening to him. Every single time he thought he was going to get better, going be better, going to love himself something happened and he was thrust back into _it._ It was always _something_. Why couldn’t he be happier than a few months at a time? Why the fuck did he have to suffer like this? He must’ve done something horrible in his past life to deserve this. He was always trying, aiming, to be better. To not let _it_ overpower who he was, and fuck up his life. It never seemed to work, and he was never strong enough. Steve was tired of being so goddamn weak all the time.

He had such an amazing summer, spending every moment with his friends or mom. He went down to Bucky’s lake house with his family for a week, and it was amazing. He had so much fun, tanning on the side of the lake while Bucky and Rebecca splashed around in the water. He had been reading books, to try and distract himself from Bucky’s shirtless figure. They tried to convince him to go in the water, but when he denied their invitation, they didn’t push him. It ended way too soon, but when they came back they spent so much time with Natasha and Clint. His mom even had a week off, and spent only _half_ of it holed up in her room. It was an overall great summer, perhaps one of the best summers in Steve’s life. He spent so much time with other people that he didn’t have confront his feelings for his best friend, _or_ , any dark thoughts trying to slide into his mind.

He was currently in his room, working on English essay. A mix of The Fray and Ed Sheeran blasting through his phone, which was currently lying next to him. The essay was on, of fucking course, Much Ado About Nothing. They had to prove the themes of deception in the book, relate it to real life and to other books that they have read. To say Steve was having trouble with it was an understatement. Writing essays were never particularly _hard_ per se, but he was having trouble focusing. His phone was blowing up with notifications from his friend’s group chat, all of them have an in-depth conversation about random topics. _See, they don’t even need you to converse with, they have shared like, 100 messages just between the three of them. You’re useless,_ his mind told him. These thoughts never seemed to _quit_ , and Steve wanted to sleep. He always wanted to sleep. Sleep was the closest he could get to death, and it was comforting being out of conscious even if it was only for a few hours. It was a comfort that he couldn’t explain and just _not being there_ seemed to fix all of his problems, if only for the minute.

Steve had no care for his life anymore, let alone his grades. He exited Google Docs and put his laptop on his bedside table. He leant over to put on a random show on Netflix and settle back into his sheets. He quickly checked his phone, only to make sure there were no emergencies before he went to sleep. His group chat was currently discussing the attributes of bronies, and he definitely did _not_ feel the need to add to the conversation. There was one text from his mom saying that she was working overtime and wouldn’t be home until 12. It was currently 10. There were also a few texts from Bucky that he sent early.

 **Bucky, 9:35 pm:** _Hey man, u ok? u seemed a little off during lunch today_

 

 **Bucky, 9:36 pm:** _Not to push it or anything like u don't gotta tell me if u dont wanna_

 

Steve sighed. He hadn’t even realized how he was acting at lunch, too focus on his essay.

 

 **Steve, 10:06 pm:** _Nah, i'm fine dw just worried bout that english essay_

 

After sending his message, he clicked his phone off. With the noises from his laptop, he was easily summoned to sleep, with little self-deprecating thoughts running through his mind. The Netflix was enough of a distraction for his mind to focus on something other than _it_ thankfully. He fell asleep quickly, and comfortably.

 

*******

 

He regrettably woke up one morning a few weeks after that. It was supposed to be a day off school, so that the teachers could write report cards or something, and he was planning on just sleeping in until 3 pm. His phone was playing “Hollaback Girl” obnoxiously loud, Bucky’s ringtone (he had set it not Steve). It stopped ringing quickly enough for Steve to see he had missed 4 calls from his friend. Almost as quickly as it ended, it started ringing again. Steve picked up.

“Hello?” He asked groggily into the phone.

“Steve! Did I wake you up?” He heard Bucky ask way too chirpily for this early in the morning.

“No, Buck I decide to wake up at,” Steve paused to check the time, “ _Seven fucking thirty, Jesus,_ all by myself on a day off.” He ended sarcastically.

“Sorry babe,  but let’s go Halloween shopping!”

Steve felt his heart stop for a second hearing Bucky call him _babe_ , before he realized the other words in his sentence. Fuck, he did not want to get out of bed today.

“Bucky, it’s literally 7 am on a _Tuesday._ 2 weeks before Halloween. Nowhere is going be open.”

“But _Stevee.”_ He whined, drawing out his friend’s name.

“No Buck, not today. I can’t it’s, it’s one of _those_ days. I’d be lucky if I can even get out of bed.” Steve said grimly, chuckling although it was not funny.

“Wait are you okay? Are you home right now?”

“Yeah don’t worry, and of course I’m home Bucky. It’s literally the crack of dawn, no, I’m _totally_ at a meth lab.”

“I’m coming over in a few hours. Try to get some sleep, I’ll be there around 2.”

“But, Buck-” He hung up. Okay, Steve guesses, he’ll just have to stay home. Thankfully he knew Bucky would let him sleep in.

Before Steve slept, he decided to quickly go to the washroom. He entered the room, locking it behind him. He wasn’t going to kid himself, he knew what he was about to do. He bent down to the lower cupboard, opened it and got his pack of razors. He slid the container open, choosing one of his favourites. The razor glimmered in the light, Steve could see a blurred version of himself on the surface of the blade. If what he was going to do wasn’t so, he’s not sure, _horrible_ , he would think that it was beautiful. He knew he shouldn’t romanticize it, but in his sick mind, he considered it a work of his art. It was disgusting, he knows, and he wouldn’t want anyone else to ever think about it how he did. He just couldn’t help it.

He sat down on the toilet cover, and pulled down his pants only enough to show some skin. He scratched his skin with the blade until he was satisfied with the cut. He imagined what would happen if he did press it against one of his main veins, by accident _or_ on purpose. Would it hurt? How would it feel? How long would it take for him to pass out from blood loss? How long would it take for someone to find him? He quickly shook these thoughts out of his head. He would entertain them another time, he thought.

When he stood up, he washed the blood of the blade and put in back in the container. He felt calm and peaceful afterwards but he still wasn’t fixed. He decided to lay down, maybe sleep a few more hours until Bucky came by.

 

*******

 

It was a couple hours later, but Steve felt like it was a mere few seconds before he passed out. He woke up groggily to his doorbell ringing incessantly. Steve didn’t want to unwrap himself from his comfortable bed sheets, and have to actually get up but he didn’t want Bucky to wait outside. He was conflicted. He knew seriously that he would have to get up in a few seconds, but he wished he didn’t.

He untangled himself from his bedsheets, slightly stumbling down the stairs from exhaustion. He made his way to the door that revealed, obviously, an over perky Bucky Barnes. He was grinning from ear to ear, his smile slightly faltering seeing Steve’s current state of being. Hmm, Steve thought, relatable.

“Steve! You look like complete shit, but it’s okay because Bucky Barnes is here to save the day.” Bucky practically yelled, although Steve knew that he probably wasn’t talking that loud. Everything seemed loud to Steve today. Bucky walked in, dumping a few plastic bags on the closest table.

“Bucky, you know I love you,” Steve started, pausing for a second to ponder if Bucky knew how _much_ Steve loved him, “but I honestly don’t have the energy to anything today.”

Bucky’s smile didn’t falter, the opposite had actually happened, his grin grew wider. He grabbed Steve’s hand, _if only if it was in the context Steve prayed for,_ and led him towards the couch, plastic bags in tow.

“That’s why, Steve, I brought over the perfect lazy day kit. Or depressive episode kit, I guess.” Bucky joked, and Steve felt himself instantly relax. For whatever weird reason, having people not take his episodes _too_ seriously always seemed to help him. It was weird. “I have one tub of Ben and Jerry’s chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream for you, one mint chocolate chip for me, and a bunch of those stupid 1990’s romcoms you love so much.” He listed while pulling out each item.

Steve immediately felt himself be brought to life a little bit more. Obviously, his depression wasn’t suddenly gone and he still felt that empty pit in his stomach _but_ he felt better. Even if it was only by a fraction. At least he wasn’t imagining how it would be like to kill himself at the moment.

Steve made eye contact with Bucky, and told him “I really love you, Buck.” He meant it too, in every meaning of the word. He doubted there would ever be a time where he didn’t automatically connect his name to love. But Bucky didn’t need to know this.

“I know pal, I love you too. Now let’s start these romcoms, eat some fucking ice cream, and cuddle, like men of course.” Bucky said, joking about the last part.

Bucky told him to just lie down on the couch, while he set up everything. Bucky was the greatest friend he could ever ask for, and Steve’s never regretted opening up to him. He needed to send Natasha a million thank you gifts, because he wouldn’t have ever gotten anywhere without her. Sure, Bucky doesn’t know that Steve hurts himself (a lot more than he should, but he isn’t going to mention that, not even to himself), but he _does_ know about Steve being depressed. That was good enough, wasn’t it?

Bucky came back to the couch when he was finished setting up the DVD, sitting next to Steve. Steve cuddled against him, burying himself in his best friend’s warmth. Bucky was always radiating heat, and didn’t mind when Steve would burrow himself into him. They seemed to fit perfectly together, with no awkward positioning. They were like puzzle pieces, jagged when alone but joining flawlessly to create a perfect picture.

“You know it’s okay to be sad, right Steve?” Bucky asked softly, out of the blue.

Steve’s head was resting on Bucky’s lap when he said it. Too shocked, too confused, to look up. He knew what he meant, and that it was supposed to provide comfort. And it did, to some extent. But to a greater extent, it made him anxious. Like he knew that Bucky was only just _saying_ that, and he obviously couldn’t have meant it. Who would say that? Sure, it was the best thing one could say in reply to Steve’s current state, but most people tended to focus on ‘getting better’, and ‘faking a smile because it’s scientifically proven to improve happiness’. It was all bullshit, and no matter how weird this sounded he never actually expected anyone to _acknowledge_ his sadness.

Instead of speaking his true thoughts, he did what he always did. Pretended that it was nothing, and tried to seem unconcerned. He simply said, “I know, Buck.” and that was that.

 

*******

 

It was December and Steve was not only wasted but fucking stoned. See, in hindsight getting drunk for only the like fifth time in his life, and then smoking one and a half grams of weed was not a particularly smart idea. It was definitely _not_ his first time getting high but _shhh,_ Bucky doesn’t know. Bucky only thinks he’s shitfaced.

It wasn’t a big deal, his asthma had cleared up as a child, with most of his childhood illnesses. He was even growing, he swore, he shot up five inches overnight. Clint approached him at the party, (don’t worry before he was drunk) and ask if he wanted to share a joint with him. Of course, since Steve has no sense of self-preservation and didn’t think about how he would handle two drugs at once, he said yes. He had still yet to decided if it was a good idea. See, Steve was usually a cuddly drunk. He was used to being a cuddly drunk, and accepted that’s just who he is. Right now though, being crossfaded has totally changed his perception of alcohol. Right now, Steve isn’t cuddly, Steve is the life of the goddamn motherfucking party. And he’s loving it.

Steve was currently on top of the table of, fuck, he couldn’t remember whose house. But he was on the table of _somebody’s_ house. Dancing to Womanizer by Britney Spears, and damn it’s an amazing song. Steve doesn’t know _why_ this song didn’t get a fucking Oscar. Wait, maybe it did. Steve wasn’t quite sure.

“Steve! What the fuck are you doing?” Steve heard someone yell out, he’s not quite sure who. Maybe looking down for the voice would be a good idea. Steve looked towards the crowd, and suddenly got dizzy. Maybe not such a good idea.

“Steve, get your ass down here.” The voice yelled again, and oh my god it was Natasha. Steve loved Natasha. Her bright red hair was standing out from the crowd, leaving Steve confused on how he missed it in the first place. He stumbled off the table, hearing boos due to his departure.

“I’m sorry kids, Britney has to take a break.” He slurred towards the crowd, walking down to Natasha.

“Steve. What the fuck.” Natasha stated, bluntly. She didn’t look drunk at all, that must not be fun Steve thought.

“You look sober. Why are you so sober? Do you want some of my drink?” He slurred, raising what he thought would be his drink to Natasha. He ended up only raising his hand, because his drink was nowhere to be found. “Hey! What happened to my drink?”

He swirled around looking for his cup, and ended up feeling dizzy. Natasha scoffed, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into the kitchen.

“Hey, Natasha. Where are we going?” He slurred, Natasha ignoring him. She looked really busy, he thought. She was getting a cup? Maybe she was getting him another drink! She poured a clear liquid into the cup, Steve couldn’t figure out what it was from his eyesight blurring, and handed it to him.

“Drink up.” She instructed. So, he did, only to discover that it was water. Boring.

“Now, tell me why you’re so fucked right now? Because I thought I’ve seen you the drunkest you could be, but obviously I was wrong.”

“Well, Natasha, you have to promise me something. Something _very_ important.” He started, staring into her eyes, pouting slightly. She nodded, and he continued. “Don’t tell Bucky, because Bucky might be mad and I don’t want him to be mad.”

She looked conflicted, and vaguely nervous. If Steve wasn’t so intoxicated right now, he would try and wonder what she was thinking. His brain couldn’t deal with that at the moment though.

“Fine. _But_ only if it’s not an immediate concern.” She concluded.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Steve said while waving his arms. He made eye contact with her again, staring, kind of weirdly. “I am. Stoned and drunk. At. The. Same. Time.” He finished, choppily.

Slight relief washed over his friend’s face. She seemed to ponder what Steve said for a couple seconds, meanwhile Steve was sipping his water.

“Okay, well I’m not going to tell Bucky, but you need to stop this Steve.” She took in Steve’s confused look, then elaborated. “You’ve been so fucking reckless and self-destructive lately, I don’t even know _how_ Bucky couldn’t have noticed. You’re always fucking stoned, except for when you’re around him of fucking course. If you’re not stoned, or with Bucky, then you’re just not out!”

“I know you’re going through shit right now, I understand that. But this is only making it worse Steve, trust me. Being a stoner and getting drunk isn’t going to fucking help at all.”

Steve felt his mouth dry up. He instantly felt stone cold sober, and fucking hated it. He was seeing red with anger. Who does Natasha think she is? She can’t just fucking tell him how to live his life. Who cares if he wanted to get high? Who the _fuck_ cares if he wanted to party all the time? Nobody but his mother should be concerned, but _she wasn’t even fucking around was she?_

“Fuck you Natasha. I don’t why you always think you can force yourself into my life, and  _fix me_ . Newsflash, I’m depressed and not a broken fucking toy. And, if I wanted to be, what did you call it? ‘ _Fucking reckless and self-destructive.’_ ” He seethed, mocking in a high pitched voice. “Then fucking let me because it’s _my_ choice, not yours. Fuck you.”

He stormed off, knowing that it was overdramatic but he couldn’t care right now. He was pissed off. He walked past everyone in this party, and it felt surreal how nobody around him _stopped_ , everyone continuing to do whatever they were doing. It was a bittersweet reminder how he didn’t matter. He felt himself stumble as he walked, suddenly feeling a lot drunker than he was in the heat of the argument. He still thought, fuck it. He walked over to the closet, and grabbed his coat from the pile of jackets on the closet ground. Then he was out the door of whoever’s fucking house this was, he still didn’t know.

He just wanted to leave, not the party, everything. Leave, leave it all behind, walk in one direction and never stop. Instead he merely walked home, in the freezing cold. Not even the liquor and drugs running through his bloodstream could keep him warm, nothing could. The trees around him looked as naked and vulnerable as he felt. He patted around for his phone and earphones so he could put on some music, and stop the achingly quiet noise from the streets. It was a small neighbourhood, close to where Steve lived. The sound of cars was soft, and could barely be heard this time of night. It must’ve been 2, maybe 3 am, but Steve didn’t care. He felt numb and didn’t know how to make this feeling go away without hurting himself. He was too tired, too drunk, too high, at the moment to actually do that.

He put his earphones in, blasting some random band that Bucky had shown him. His hands were as numb as he felt, and he wanted to go home. He felt so shitty. He yelled at Natasha, his _friend,_ because he was too self-destructive and shitty to do anything else. He doesn’t tell Bucky anything anymore and he _knows_ that it’s fucking up their friendship but he can’t do anything about it. He thinks that he might be failing most of his courses, because he always too tired to do anything. He’s only 15 years old and he’s a complete fuck-up. He’s never going to amount to anything and he _knows_ it. _Everything was his fault. Everything was his fault. Everything was his fault,_ played on repeat in his head and he couldn’t stop it.

He felt his heart pound, rise from his chest to his throat. He’s going to cry and he knows he’s going to fucking cry. He’s having trouble breathing but he keeps walking, keep moving, although he knows that it’s too fast of a pace for him. He can’t stop though, he has to keep walking or else he’ll never get home, never get anywhere. He’s almost close to running home, close to running from his mind. He couldn’t fucking do this anymore.

He finally arrived at his front porch, and the absence of his mom’s car left a bigger hole in his heart than usually. He needed her more than ever right now but she’s not there, she’s never fucking there for him.

He unlocked the doors with his shaky hands, and he tried to steady them but they wouldn’t stop shaking, nothing would stop shaking. He slammed the door behind him, locking it, then storming up the staircase to his room. He was feeling dizzy and rushed and anxious and depressed and numb and like he was about to _burst._ He was feeling everything and nothing at the same time, and couldn’t handle it.

He flopped down on his bed, not caring about anything. Not his dirty clothing which reeked of alcohol, not brushing his teeth, not trying to calm down first, _nothing._ He was used to not caring though, he never felt like he cared for anything revolving his self-care anymore.

He pressed his pillow to his face, sobbing. He felt like he was suffocating, he couldn’t breathe but he couldn’t stop crying. His phone was still fucking blasting music through the earbuds which he tore off, and he couldn’t handle it. The silent hum of his music making him feel insane. He stopped for a second to turn it off, his phone, too see a million text messages. He would deal with it tomorrow, he thought, before turning off his phone. He pressed his face against the pillow again, shakily sobbing, and praying that the pillow would suffocate him in his sleep.

 

******

 

School the next day was one of the worst days he’s ever experienced. He felt so run down, and exhausted. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the night prior, waking up from different nightmares every few hours. He usually didn’t get nightmares, but this night was different.

He would fall asleep, while sobbing into the pillow.  The next moment he would be in the middle of a dream, so vivid that it left him confused. The first dream was him on the Brooklyn Bridge, staring off into the sky. It was dark in the dream, maybe midnight, and the stars around him were brighter than he’s ever seen before in his life. He was sitting on the ledge, seemingly admiring the stars, while all of the sudden Dream-Steve would stand up and jump. There was no precaution, he would just jump like it was nothing.

Steve woke up in a panic sweat, chest heaving. He wanted it to be real, but it was so fucking scary. Eventually, he would over think, cry and, fall asleep again only to wake up to another variation of the dream. The second time Bucky was there, screaming for him to not jump, but he still there. The third time was his mom, the fourth Natasha and Clint, all doing what Bucky was. It was quite frankly fucking him up and he didn’t want to deal with it.

He was currently getting his books for his second class of the day. He stayed in bed, and missed first. He hadn’t bothered to look at his phone, keeping it off for the day. Walking to school so much later than usual in deafening silence was surreal, but thankfully his brain was too tired and didn’t lead to dark thoughts flooding his brain. He didn’t want to think about how he would act around Natasha, after the fight last night. Were they still friends? Did she hate him? He had no idea, but wasn’t about to turn on his phone to find out. He heard the bell ring, and quickly walked to his class with his head down. He didn’t want to see Bucky, or any of his friends. For once this school year, he was thankful he didn’t have English with any of his friends. He couldn’t stomach seeing any of his friends right now, but he knew he had lunch right after English and he was going to have to see them.

He took his seat in English, the rest of the students slowly filling into the classroom. He stared at the front where the teacher currently was, explaining their latest assignment. It was something on poetry, but Steve couldn’t pay attention. He zoned out for almost the entire period, not even touching the worksheets handed out to him. It wasn’t until the bell rang that he shook out of his thoughts.

He started walking in the hallway, gearing himself up to see his friends. He’s got this, he’s got this, he repeated to himself. He can do it. He believes in himself. He believed-

A random arm pulled him off to the side, in the hallways. Although he was taller, he had still yet to fill out any muscles, so it wasn’t hard per se to pull in a certain direction.

“Steve! What the fuck happened to you at Stark’s party?” Bucky said, halfway between concern and anger. Steve was confused.

“Wait _what?_ It was Stark’s party? I thought he moved away in like fourth grade or something!” Steve exclaimed, only stuck on that one part. For once he wasn’t actually trying to change the conversation, and was genuinely confused.

“ _Yes_ , _Steve._ It was Stark’s party, and he literally just moved back that’s why he threw a party, on a fucking tuesday. If you didn’t notice. Now, where the hell did you go? Because we were supposed to go home together, and then the next second I couldn’t find you anywhere!”

Steve didn’t know how to explain, didn’t know what Nat told him. He didn’t want to make an excuse, but he didn’t want to tell the truth. Fuck it, he thought, he’ll say something vague. Half-truths make it’s appearance again in their relationship.

“I wasn’t feeling well, so I just went home. To be honest, I think I was too fucked to even remember to tell you.” Steve said, a fake smile plastered on his face. Technically it wasn’t a lie.

“I got fucked too don’t worry, but why was your phone off the entire time, man? I tried calling you and it wouldn’t go through. Plus you didn’t reply to my texts this morning, and I ended up walking alone.”

“Fuck I think my phone died when I got home, and I haven’t charged it yet.” Okay, that part was definitely a lie.

“Damn okay man. Let’s go to the caf. The other’s are probably wondering where we are.” Bucky exclaimed, wrapping one arm around Steve’s waist, guiding him towards the cafeteria.

He felt his heart pound. He wasn’t sure if he was nervous because of how close Bucky was right now, or if he was going to see Natasha.

They walked over to the table where Natasha, and Clint were currently sitting. They looked as if they were discussing something important and Steve prayed that it wasn’t about him.

“Hey guys. So I guess Steve isn’t dead after last night then.” Clint joked around, with a laugh in his voice.

“Nope, still kicking it. I’m gonna be around to bug you forever, Barton.” Steve joked back, feeling a little lighter than he did before.

Bucky and Steve sat down across from Clint and Natasha. Although the air was awkward between Steve and Natasha, it didn’t seem hostile.

The conversation progressed, and it got a little bit easy to breathe after each minute. When Bucky and Clint made some immature four-grader joke, Steve and Natasha even shot each other a look.

“I’m so tired, I don’t even know what the hell to do anymore. I just wanna go home and sleep.” Steve whined to the group, sugarcoating his problems ever so slightly.

“Do you wanna smoke this joint with me after school, dude? It might help.” Clint offered, forgetting who was around them at the moment. Everybody froze. Time felt like it stilled for a second at the table.

It wasn’t until Bucky spoke up and said, “Steve doesn’t even smoke, Clint.” with a laugh. Nobody moved, not wanting to lie outrightly to Bucky,

 _“Right?”_ He asked again, searching the face of his friend’s for certainty.

“Well, it’s kind of a funny story.” Steve started, awkwardly.

“Oh my god, punk, _are you a stoner_? This is the best thing I’ve heard all day.” Bucky said, doubling over with laughter.

Well. This isn’t how Steve expected this conversation to go.

“I mean, yeah. Kind of.” He admitted, sheepishly. At least Bucky wasn’t mad at him.

Bucky put on his best ‘stoner’ voice, and drawled, “ _Hey bruh, you wanna smoke this fat dougie with me. It’s soooooo big man. Like the universe is big man too. Whatttttt?”_

The group laughed, mainly because his stoned impression of Steve was fucking horrible. Also kind of amazing though.

That could’ve gone worse, Steve thought.

*****

 

When Steve thought it was getting better, obviously something shitty had to happen. It was March, three months after the incident at the Stark party. The last semester of the school year had started a month ago, and Steve was still adapting. He had Bucky in completely _none_ of his classes, which was weird. Since The Party Incident ™, he never felt _whole._ Him and Natasha had been on good terms, no tension between the two of them to cut. He still hadn’t felt like himself though. It was like the past few months weren’t even real. They flew past him like he didn’t even feel them. One day he woke up and the leaves were growing back, and the snow was long gone. He was surprised, not even realizing the absence of the snow. He could barely remember what was happening around him, his memories flying out of his brain as soon as they entered. No matter the changes around him, he felt like he was still in the same routine.

The only thing that shook him out of this constant state of being numb was Bucky and his new fucking girlfriend. They had only gotten together like, a week ago _(maybe a month but Steve didn’t care fuck that)_ , and Steve didn’t want to fucking deal with that. They were always fucking together, and Bucky was never with Steve. He only ever talked about _fucking Samantha._ With her perfect fucking blonde hair, blue eyes with _“the tiniest hint of green, Steve, when you look close enough.”_ Fuck Bucky, and fuck his perfect girlfriend too.

Him and _fucking Samantha_ had went out in middle school, but it was nothing serious, obviously. They went out on one fucking date, made out behind the theatre, and then he told Steve all about it. From what Bucky told him, Samantha was placed next to him in his English class this semester, and they got to talking. They decided to go out on a date, for old times sake, and it didn’t bother Steve much. Bucky always went on dates with girls, but he never actually _stayed_ with them. All of a sudden, Bucky Barnes had turned into a relationship guy, and Steve was angry. He was angry, and jealous, and annoyed, and fucking depressed. Sure, he’s happy for his friend, and didn’t let Bucky know how he actually felt, because he didn’t want to fuck up his friend’s relationship. At the same time, though, Steve just want to cry about him to his best friend, but he _can’t because Bucky’s his fucking best friend._ He was never even _around_ to notice how Steve was acting. Steve just wanted to get fucking drunk and forget about Bucky. So, Steve texted his closest friend at the moment.

 **Steve, 9:07 pm:** _last minute, ik, but do u wanna come over n get drunk w me? i have a bottle of vodka n my crippling depression_

 

He waited a few minutes for Natasha’s reply, praying the she would be able to come over.

 

 **Natasha, 9:14 pm:** _be over in 10, u ok?_

 

 **Steve, 9:16 pm:** _not really, code b?_

 

Since Natasha, Clint, and him (mainly Natasha) were such geniuses they came up for secret codes, for when they needed to tell each other things but couldn’t resort to that level of vulnerability (Steve) or didn’t have the time to type/speak sentences (usually Nat or Clint).

Clearly enough, ‘Code B’ was any Bucky related issue, usually Steve and his enormous fucking crush on him.

Steve needed Natasha’s friendship right here, right now. In the past few weeks since the Party Incident™ him and Natasha have grown relatively closer. It took a few awkward occasions until they got their shit back together, and apologized. Honestly, Steve doesn’t know where he’d be right now if it wasn’t for her.

He was also close with Clint, but in a different way. They never talked about Important Stuff™, but if one of them brought up an important topic they were able to discuss it with Clint’s surprising profoundness. He would’ve texted Clint to join them too, but he knew that his foster parents wouldn’t let him leave the house this late anyways.

He wallowed in his sadness for a couple more moments until he heard the relieving pattern of Natasha’s knock. He ran downstairs to get the door, after grabbing his small 375 ml bottle of Smirnoff. He did promise vodka after all.

He opened the door revealing Natasha, not looking affected by the cold weather outside. She wasn’t even wearing a light jacket for fucks sake, just a short sleeved top and some leggings. They greeted each other, and Natasha made herself at home on his couch.

Steve started to talk, asking her what to do first,“Okay, so what do you wann-”

“This is how it’s going to work, Rogers. No drinking for self-destructive reasons consistently. Me and this bottle of vodka are here to comfort you at the moment, but this is not going to be a thing. Okay?” Natasha interrupted. Steve knew she wasn’t being mean, but forcefully protective.

Steve nodded, a little too shocked to do anything else.

“Okay then, now let's open this bottle and put on some fucking TV.”

So they did, and they started to drink while watching ANTM. It was oddly comforting, and made Steve feel a bit better. It even started to be a lot more fun when they were both drunk too.

It wasn’t until later though, that things began to make a change for the worst. Steve was currently throwing up all the straight vodka he consumed earlier, with Natasha combing his hair.

“Why doesn’t he _want_ me?” He cried, laying his head on Natasha’s lap. “Why am I not good enough for him anymore? Why does he not even want me as a _friend.”_ He sobbed, his face red and blotchy. She ran her fingers through his hair, comforting him without words. He bent over the toilet again, vomiting more alcohol and stomach acid. It burnt his throat, and only made him sob even more.

He didn’t understand it, he always tried to be a good friend. He knew he was complete shit at it but fuck why couldn’t they _tried_ to talk through their problems. Within the past month they must’ve spoken a total of 10 minutes with Non-Samantha related conversations, and that realization only made another sob run through Steve’s body.

“Why doesn’t he _care_ anymore Natasha?” He said right before throwing up the contents of his stomach, again. His throat burned, his eyes burned, everything fucking burned. He felt so fucking empty, in every sense of the word, “I’m _nothing_ without him, you don’t understand. He’s the only good part about me, and he’s gone.”

It wasn’t until 2 hours later that he was done throwing up, and done crying. Natasha had helped him clean up, and change into clean clothing. She, thankfully, turned around and didn’t notice the marks Steve had been making everyday for the past month. Steve and her decided to sleep on the couches downstairs, because they would be closer together and the kitchen was also right there. It had been a school night, but Steve’s mom wasn’t going to be home until they left for school, and they never really discussed Natasha’s homelife.

He had sunk the cushions of the couch, wrapped around in a blanket, when she had said, “Do you guys ever think about your friendship?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, not sure what she was getting at.

“Like, how you guys have almost always been together. Like, it’s strangely codependent.”

“I mean, not really. We’ve never discussed it really. Why?”

“Well, not to intrude,” She started before Steve cut her off with an, “Don’t you always?” jokingly. She glared, with no heat behind her gaze, but it still shut him up.

“It just seems like an unhealthy friendship. Like if you’re apart for a short period of time one or the other has like consistent mental breakdowns. And you guys never communicate about it.”

Steve have never thought about it like that. He’s never considered it codependent, let alone _toxic._ The more he pondered about it, the more it seemed to make sense.

“I’ve never thought about it before,” He started, truthfully, “but, I don’t know. It doesn’t sound completely insane though.”

“Well, I was just thinking you guys were never given a chance to grow alone.” She said staring at her friend, looking for signs of discomfort.

“Elaborate.” He urged, needing her to continue.

“You’ll never be able to grow as a person unless you’re given the time to grow alone.”

 

*****

 

Steve got home after school, a few months later. It was spring, the middle of May. He still hadn’t been hanging out with Bucky a lot, actually a lot less than in March. It hurt, but for some reason, today he was feeling a lot _lighter_ than usual. Maybe he was finally getting used to this. Or maybe he finally accepted the fact that he needed to tell Bucky to give him space. Sure, they had an entire universe between them right now, but Steve needed to give a label to what was happening to feel at ease.

His mental health for the past few months just got worse. Natasha, and Clint have been helping a lot more than he could ever ask for though. He appreciated everything they’ve done for him since March. After the night with Natasha comforting him after he threw up, the group dynamic shifted. It was clear that Bucky wasn’t going to start hanging out with them anytime soon, but they adapted. Natasha and Clint were still dating, of course, but they were always best friends first. It made things a million times easier, and simpler when the three of them hung out. Steve was never left out, feeling like a third wheel. Sometimes Steve would lie to himself and think that he barely even missed Bucky. Who wasn’t only his _best friend_ but the person he had been pining after for the better part of the year.

It obviously wasn’t the truth though. Steve can’t picture a life with Bucky by his side. The mere thought of it gives him an ache in his chest that spreads throughout his entire body. It makes him sick, makes him lonely, makes him depressed. Natasha and Clint always try to help, and he loves them for it, but _it’s just not the same._ Nothing will ever be the same, and Steve was having a hard time accepting that.

He laid on his bed, thinking about the conversation he had with his friends at lunch earlier that day.

“You need to talk to him.” Natasha had said, poking at the mush of food from the school cafeteria, after seeing him staring longingly at Samantha and Bucky. Who were currently making out in the corner of the room and who the fuck does that? In a school cafeteria? Some people are trying to eat.“Tell him that you don’t have to deal with this shit.”

“Yeah, man. Fuck him, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.” Clint said back in support. Natasha nudged him in the ribs jokingly. “In a totally platonic way, of course,” He groaned out, “I love my girlfriend too much to think about other people.”

Steve and Natasha had caught each other’s gaze before bursting out in laughter. The conversation had morphed quickly into Clint complaining about always being made fun of in the group, and that was that.

So, 7 hours later, Steve was going to do it. He was going to call Bucky, talk to Bucky, and tell him that he needed a break. He had spent too long sitting around thinking something would change, and he refused to wait any longer. He was independent, he was strong, he could do this.

It took four months, but he finally grew the confidence and certainty to tell Bucky. To actually talk to Bucky, and sort whatever thing they were going through the past few months. He needed to tell him that he needed space, needed a break. So, Steve called him. It took him three rings, before Bucky picked up.

“Hey, Bucky.” Steve greeted simply.

“Hey punk, can’t talk for long. I’m getting ready to go out,” Bucky replied frantically, sounding like he was organizing himself. Steve frowned.

“Bucky we need to talk, seriously.”

“I have plans with Samantha in a little, can we do this later?” He responded distractedly. Steve was mad. He finally had a fucking chance to talk to Bucky and he was trying to blow him off. Again. For the millionth time.

“No, Buck. We have to do this now.” Steve snapped, forcefully. The heat in the statement could be felt from a mile away.

“Okay…?” Bucky replied, finally sounding like he was part of the conversation. He heard some ruffling through the phone, like he was moving positions to sit down.

“I think we need a break.” He growled, not feeling his ‘ _best friend’s_ ’ bullshit right now.

“Wait, what?” Bucky asked, sounding confused.

“From our _‘friendship’_.” Steve responded through the phone.

“Steve, why? I thought we were good, I thought you were doing better.” Bucky pleaded, voice cracking.

“Bucky, how much time have we spent together since you started dating _Samantha_? Three times? Maybe less? And every single time, most of the conversation is about your relationship. How could you seriously think we were alright? I didn’t even see you most of the time!” He yelled through the phone, not able to contain his anger at the moment.

“But, but, fuck. Steve I’m so sorry, please don’t leave. I’ll be better, I promise.” He spluttered through the phone. Steve didn’t even know how he could be _surprised_ when they have had a total of 9 proper conversations since fucking March.

“No, Bucky. I need to do this, for _me._ The past three months have taken such a fucking toll on me, and you didn’t even realize! Does that sound like a healthy friendship to you?”

“I, didn’t mean to Stevie. I’m so fucking sorry.” Bucky pleaded some more, sounding close to tears.

“Don’t worry, Buck. It’s just a break, I need some time to figure out who _I_ am, without you or the absence of you as an extension. If that makes sense.” He explained, feeling slightly calmer than before.

“It makes perfect sense Steve. I’m just, I’m sorry alright? I really need to get to Samantha’s, I’m so sorry. Maybe we can talk through this another time.” He stammered through the sentence. That fucking dick.

“No, I don’t think we will Bucky. Have fun on your date.” He snapped, hanging up the call.

Steve wasn’t even bothered at the moment that this could be the last time he spoke to Bucky in months. Bucky didn’t even realize that Steve was barely around anymore and that’s what hurt Steve the most. When he was in his room crying every night, Bucky thought they were perfectly fine.

Steve pulled out the messenger app, and started to type a message to Natasha.

 **Steve, 7:38 pm:** _I did it. Told him I needed space. He ended the convo early so he could pick up Samantha for a date or some shit._

 

\-----------

 

It was the last day of summer, and Steve wasn’t ready for school to start back. He was nervous to see Bucky, sure, but he also had a really weird summer. It was amazing, to some extent, but it was just plain weird. It was first summer without Bucky since kindergarten, and without having him there it wasn’t the same. It was the first _birthday_ he had since he was 5 without Bucky, and that was horrible by itself.

He had turned 16 with the company of his old friends, and his new ones. Or new _one_ , Steve guesses. See, Steve decided to message Tony Stark, and see if the small flame of friendship they once had was still alive. Thankfully their conversation went smooth, and resulted in a new not-so-platonic platonic friendship.

Tony was one of the best people to go to when it came to getting over someone else. He helped Steve with a lot of shit during the summer, even his self-harm addiction. They spent the summer with loud music, led lights, and random pills at the tip of his tongue. Quick make-outs in supply closets, while high on whatever drugs they took.

Right now he had Tony kissing up his neck, towards his mouth, while lying on the bed. He loved it, loved having a no-strings friendship. It was so easy, so pain-relieving, so distracting.

“Tony, do you think school’s going to be weird?” Steve said, rather breathlessly, to one of his best friends.

“It’s only weird if you make it weird.” Tony said in between kissing Steve’s neck. Steve decided that he didn’t want to have the rest of the conversation anymore, knowing that he will only be annoyed by whatever Tony says. So, he grabbed Tony’s neck and pulled him towards his mouth, because he is a changed person who actually goes for what he wants.

Their mouth’s crashed against each other in a heated kiss. It was anything but gentle, anything but kind. He pulled off Tony’s shirt, bringing him back down to his mouth afterwards. He wrapped his legs around Tony’s back, while they grinded on each other ever so slightly.  His hips bucked up into Tony’s, the jeans between them seemingly too much fabric. Steve sat up for a second, pulling off his own top. Tony stared at him with raw desire in his eyes, and Steve was never going to get used to another human being looking at him like that. Steve’s fingernails scratching Tony’s back at they rutted against each other, looking for a quick release. It was hot, but there was no real emotion behind it. Maybe, Steve thought, that’s why it was so appealing to him. They continued for a few minutes, until finally getting the release that they wanted.

Steve was tired, so he laid down on the bed, when he heard Tony help himself to a shower. They’ve been through this so many times before that it was routine at this point. They would hang out, get high on random drugs, make out, come, and then Steve would sleep while Tony showered. They never went _all the way_ , but Steve didn’t mind. He was satisfied with the limits they had, for the sake of their friendship.

Steve wasn’t mad at himself for this summer. He had actually tried to find himself, tried new and confusing things. He went to parties more often, but they were all different than the high school parties he was used to. The normal house parties would have a couple bottles, and a lot of weed while these had black lights, and people making lines with credit cards. He found a million different versions of himself this summer, and had no regrets from trying to discover who he actually was.

And whatever Natasha says, he was  _not_ being self-destructive.

 

*****

 

Steve entered the school building the day later, with a neck filled with obvious hickeys. He had told Tony not to leave any marks, but let’s be honest. When does Tony ever listen? It was something he admired about him, weirdly. The fact that he could do whatever he wanted, and didn’t _care_ about the opinions of others. Obviously, he never purposely hurt others or put others at risk, but he did whatever he wanted, when he wanted.

He had gotten the schedule during the break, and they had the same lockers every year, so thankfully he didn’t need to make any detours. He had saw all of his friend’s through the summer consistently, he didn’t need to make a show of seeing them. So, he went straight to his fucking locker like he had every day for the past 2 years. The smell of nostalgia in the air around him made him fucking sick.

Steve doesn’t like to complain about others for no reason, but one of Steve’s biggest pet peeves is when people act all excited about seeing their friends when school starts back. He understands if you barely saw them, or something, but _those_ people who cry about seeing their friends at school _when they saw them a fucking week ago_. It agitates Steve in a way that not many things can. It was petty, he knew it, but when he saw _fucking Samantha_ do it, he rolled his eyes and scoffed. What the fuck? She had literally saw that girl _yesterday,_ and he saw it on her Snapchat story. He just wanted to fucking die.

He opened his locker, already hating the fact that school has started back. It’s like all of the self-discovering ( _no, not self-destructive, Natasha)_ he did during the summer was gone, and he was the same person, stuck in the same routine. This time with Tony Stark by his side, instead of Bucky Barnes. Fucking, who would’ve guessed?  Steve _always_ had doubts about Bucky replacing him with someone else, but he had actually done it with Samantha. He always knew deep down that Bucky would never actually _stop_ talking to him and it kind of fucked him up when he did. Really fucked him up, actually.

Nobody needed to know though. They didn’t need to know how he lost not only his best friend for most of his life, but his crush too. They didn’t need to know that Steve took a million drugs that fucked him up to the point where he never actually _knew_ what pill was being pressed on his tongue, yet he still swallowed. It seems like a fucked up metaphor for his life. No matter what potentially harmful substance was given to him, he would still take it in hope for temporary happiness. But nobody needed to know.

Nobody also needed to know how his heart fell to the pit of his stomach when he entered his class to see Bucky Barnes.

 

*****

 

The feeling Steve Rogers had when entering his first class of the day, Psychology, to see Bucky Barnes was hard to describe. He felt as if it was one of those feelings that were described by an estranged word, or an untranslatable word from a different language. He wasn’t sure. He knew there was not _one_ word to describe it. It would be impossible to express with a limited amount of characters.

He felt happy, joyous, like he was starting a new beginning. Although, at the same time he felt scared and nostalgic. It was like he was returning home, in a sense, but was afraid that nothing would be the same.

To only make matters worse, the only empty seat was the one next to Barnes. This is why Steve needed to start showing up on time. It was weird though, that nobody was sitting next to him, when _fucking Samantha_ was in this class. Instead she was sitting at the back with a bunch of her friends. Interesting.

So, Steve did what this summer prepared him to do. What all of his self-discovering, hickey-filled, drug-fueled, summer vacationing strengthened him to do. He sat next to Bucky Barnes.

Needless to say, it was fucking awkward. The teacher still hadn’t arrived, _(there were currently 7 students going through the agenda to find the rule saying that we could leave after the teacher was absent for the first 10 or so minutes),_ and most were making conversations among themselves.

Steve, being decided to speak first. He was the one who called it quits, and he could get the fuck on the high horse, and start the conversation. Bucky had seemed to be thinking something similar.

“How was your summer?” They had both asked at the same time, laughing right after. That at least seemed to lighten the awkwardness, slightly. Only slightly though.

“You go first.” Steve said with a polite smile.

“Not gonna lie, it was kind of weird. I mean after the break-up with Samantha, which I’m sure you heard of, at the end wasn’t great. Overall fun, though.” Bucky replied nonchalantly, his face had no particular emotion but it wasn’t blank at the same time. It seemed like a resting face, in a way. Steve had no idea how to describe it.

“Really? I actually hadn’t heard of it. Why?” Steve asked, genuinely surprised, when his mind caught up to the words.

“I’m not sure,” Bucky shrugged, “she said I was too, _distracted._ ” He mocked in a high pitch voice, scarily similar to fucking Samantha.

Steve frowned, upset for his friend, or well, his former friend. “Bucky, that really sucks. You know you could’ve called me right?”

“I really couldn’t Steve.” He replied. Steve felt guilty, why was he such a shit friend? Thankfully the teacher finally arrived at the exact moment, and they were luckily saved from the awkward direction the conversation was heading.

They didn’t speak again until the middle of the close, when Bucky leant over and whisper, “You’ve got something on your neck by the way.", leaving Steve blushing and embarrassed.

 

****

 

Later that month, Steve went home in a mood he rarely felt anymore. Depressed to the pointing of fantasizing about killing himself, zoning out of class with thoughts of hurting himself, craving something that was _not_ drugs for the first time in forever when he was in this mood. Steve wouldn’t say that he was addicted to drugs, or had substance abuse issues. He knew how bad they could get, and knew not to fuck about with serious shit like heroin. Sometimes, though, (actually most of the time), when he was sad or stressed, he would usually simply get high. He wasn’t picky, he would do whatever was convenient at the time. At the moment, Steve didn’t even want to be doped out of his head, he just wanted to feel _pain_. Pain that he deserved, pain to actually make him feel something.

This feeling started after first period psychology. Of course, him and Bucky got into a fucking fight in the middle of class. It wasn’t over the top dramatic or anything, but it included angry texts and violent note-passing.

Steve couldn’t remember _how_ the fight started at the moment but it didn’t care. He said shit about _fucking Samantha_ , and Bucky abandoning him. Bucky had refuted with the fact that he was “fucking around with Stark”, and was a “druggie”. There were other insults in the argument too, some that had been burning in the back of their brains for ages, aching to be released.

All in all, it was just disgusting. And it fucked up Steve’s day. For the rest of the day, he wasn’t feeling it. Fuck it, he thought. One relapse isn’t going to fuck up his entire life and it’ll only be _once_.

He didn’t need to ask anyone for help, not Natasha, not Stark, nobody. He was doing this for _him._ It wasn’t going to go away until he actually did it, and he didn’t want this to go on for the rest of the fucking week, He had built up a steady life within the past few months, and he wasn’t going to watch it crumble down (that’s a life he was possibly at one of the most fragile times of his life, but fuck it, he could lie to himself better than he could lie to anyone else).

So, he got into his routine. He knew what to do, where to do it, and how to clean up afterwards. He was experienced now, not like that one day in Grade 8 when he had no idea what he was doing. Nope, now he was in Grade 11, and he _knew_ his shit.

He knew which blade of his was the sharpest, which was the dullest, and which would hurt more in the moment while another would hurt more the day after. He knew how deep he could go, he knew his limits. He knew not to leave behind tracks, to hide the razor away and wash all of the blood. He knew to shower afterwards so he had the ability to wash out the cut without being caught. He knew everything, but right now he wished he knew nothing at all.

He picked the duller blade, because it was going to hurt _now_ and it was what he needed. He needed the sting, the sharp pain, to keep him alive. He didn’t care for the “ _beauty”_ of the cut, the shape or deepness. He cared for the pain, the blood, the metal.

He sliced through that one spot on his upper thighs. Slide the blade across the skin a total of five times, watching the blood slowly bead up through the fresh wound. He washed the blade, put it back in its case.

He turned on the shower, and stripped. He let the hot spray of water wash away the tension between his shoulders and the blood on his thigh.

 

*****

Steve was sitting upright on his bed, legs crossed. His laptop turned on with over 7 tabs of information, and his papers and textbooks strewn across the bed. He was so tired, so stressed, from this project. He had to do research on WW2 and the relationships between the soldiers. Not only dating, but life-long friendships. He was fucking miserable about it, not because of the topic per se, but the vagueness of the assignment. He had no idea what he even needed to _do_ , in a sense. He was fucking done.

He turned on his phone and it read “OCTOBER 15TH, 9:30PM”. Fuck it, he thought to himself, he had spent over three fucking hours and he hasn’t gotten anywhere on the project. So, he decided to call up one of his best friends, Tony, thinking that he might relieve him of this stress.

It rang a couple of times, and Steve was sure he wasn’t going to pick up. He sighed. Then, a few rings before it would cut off, he picked up.

“Steve, my man, what’s up?” Tony slurred through the phone, loud music playing behind him. Of course, he was drunk.

“I’m just bored, sorry I wouldn’t call if I knew you were out.” Steve grimaced at himself, a flare of anxiety with slight annoyance blossoming in his chest.

“No, Stevie talk to meee. What’s actually up? Tell Papa Stark, I can solve anything.” Tony whined, drunkenly, sounding like a child. Steve chuckled.

“Tony. It’s weird to refer to yourself as ‘Papa Stark’ when I’ve literally had your dick in my mouth.” Steve said halfway between annoyed and fondness.

“Shhhh, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m not sure, I’m just stressed over that history assignment. Did you do it?” Steve asked, trying to sound casual, like his entire mental health wasn’t hitting rock bottom due to this one project.

“Yep, Finished it last week. Easy as fuck.” Tony replied, offhandedly.

“Oh. I just can’t concentrate on it, I guess.” Steve mumbled in response, feeling ashamed about his lack of progress.

“Do you want me to come over and _relieve_ that stress? If you know what I mean.” Tony implied, ‘seductively’ (or at least he was trying to be). Steve felt anger rise through him.

“No Tony. I was calling you as a _friend_ because I needed _support_.” He snapped, furious.

“Sorry, I’m busy now, Ttyl.” Tony ended the calling, ironically (Steve hopes.)

Why the fuck was Steve still friends with this asshole? Oh yeah, because he’s a great friend but only fucking sometimes. And Steve was self-destructive. But whatever.

 

****

Three weeks later, and Steve was playing with his food in the cafeteria, surrounded by all of his closest friends. He had some form of brown mush on his plate, supposedly some vegan dish that is good for students. Steve didn’t believe it. He was sure that it was breathing on its own, and was growing hair of some sorts. He pushed the plate away from him.

Natasha, Clint, and Tony were all around him. Natasha and Clint being cuddly, gross, and relationshippy (if that’s even a word, but it is in Steve’s books), with Tony complaining. He loved his friends.

“Hey guys, did you see Bucky’s new hair? I literally didn’t even notice until today.” Clint asked amicably towards the group.

“ _Clint._ He has literally been growing it out since the beginning of the year! How did you not notice?” Steve asked, feigning surprise. He knew that Clint barely paid attention to anything but weed, Natasha, and his close friends, so it wasn’t shocking to hear that he only realized this recently.

“Well, friends, _I_ think he looks like a caveman. A hobo cavemen. A hobo cavemen assassin.” Tony snarked, adding onto his analogy each time.

“Honestly, Tony, at least that was creative. I’ll give you points for that.” Natasha remarked from where she was sitting, next to her boyfriend.

 

“Wow, is this Romanoff being nice to me? Alert the media! Alert the government! Alert the planets! The aliens have officially taken over, and started with our dear friend Natasha, how will we survive?” Tony joked sarcastically, until everybody glared at him. He visibly sank into his chair, while Steve was laughing from the conversation.

“Anyways,” Clint piped up, “Who does Bucky hang with now? ‘Cause I don’t think that I see him around school, unless it’s in between classes. It’s fucking weird, man.” He frowned.

“I actually don’t know.” Steve said, looking towards Natasha for an answer. She shrugged.

“We used to have some goddamn fun times with that man.” Clint reminisced, small smile on his face.

“Like that time he puked in your mother’s plant?” Natasha asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Like that time he puked in his mother’s plant.” Steve confirmed for him, waves of nostalgia drifting against him. Oddly enough he didn’t feel sad, he just felt vaguely comforted yet hollow.

“Or that time that we got drunk at that party, and ditched to go Mcdonald’s. Then he puked in the toilet at Mcdonald’s.” Clint recalled.

“Or the time that we got drunk and he puked on Natasha’s cat.” Steve added.

“Or that one time that we got drunk and he ended up puking on Steve’s shoes, then started crying while trying to clean it up.” Natasha smirked, remembering with obvious amusement.

 _“We get it,”_ Tony complained. “You guys got drunk, then he puked. _I understand._ ”

Well, Tony wasn’t wrong, For once.

“Now I think we should focus on the future. Bright, shining, and full of me, your best friend, Tony Stark.”

 

***

 

It was 3 AM, Monday (or Tuesday he guesses), the 15th of November, and Steve couldn’t take it anymore. He’s slept a grand total of 9 hours since Thursday, and he still couldn’t fall asleep. He kept thinking about _Bucky, Bucky, Bucky_ and how he fucked up their entire friendship.

Sometimes the thought would randomly pass through his head, late hours or mid-day, and he would dwell on it until he felt like shit. Then he thought about it some more.

It’s been 8 months, 8 fucking months, and he still wasn’t over it. Sure, they were friends for longer than eight _years_ , in the grand scheme 8 months was not even _close_ to the time they spent together. But it’s also the longest they have ever spent apart. And Steve was close to breaking, hanging from a thread.

It was also almost a _year_ since they were on genuinely good terms. Bucky had gotten with Samantha sometime between January to February, and that was the time that they had started to barely speak. Steve understood that it wasn’t actually _close_ to a year, but 10 months was long enough.

They are civil, and they talk all the time during class. It’s not awkward, but they still aren’t _friends._ Steve and Bucky treat each other how Steve would treat Maria Hill from his Chem class. Not friends, but can talk to when in each other's vicinity.

He was going through his phone, old texts, old images. He found one from when they both were lost in a forest, after a _very_ weird party. Both of them were tipsy that night, not close to passing out but giggling and tripping over their feet. They left the party early, before they thought it was late enough to actually get murdered in that part of town. They were walking down the middle of the street, when Steve saw the perfect opportunity to whip out his phone and take photos of the beautiful path that laid ahead of them. It was a rocky road, with trees leaning over the street. The road seemed to have no end, and it reminded him of their friendship. So, he did what any artist would. Find the perfect angle, and take 15 of the exact photos _just in case_.

It made his heart break when he saw it. He knew that he had to fix whatever he fucked up, and he had to do it now. So, drugged on sleep-deprivation, 10 cups of coffee, and clinical depression, Steve pressed on Bucky’s contact.

He heard it ring exactly 4 times before Bucky picked up. Fuck, he didn’t think this through. Why the fuck was Bucky up at this time? Fuck,

“Steve?” Bucky asked through the phone, sounding confused but thankfully, he sounded like he was still awake. At least Steve didn’t have to feel guilty about waking him up.

“Um, hi Buck. Sorry, this was stupid, I’m just gonna. I’m gonna just like, hang up now, okay bye.” Steve stumbled in a rush.

“Wait, wait, wait, Steve hold up. What’s up? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay, don’t worry.” Steve sighed. “I was just, I was feeling a little nostalgic, you know?”

“Please, Steve, my _life_ is the definition of nostalgia.” Bucky joked back. “But actually, like, don’t shit me man. What’s up? Why did you call me at 3 AM”

“That reminds me! Why _are_ you up at 3AM?” Steve said, deflecting the question.

“Steve.” Bucky warned.

“Fine, I was just going through old photos and it made me feel crappy about last year.” He confessed

“Oh yeah? Which photos?” Bucky asked curiously.

“You remember that one creepy forest party we went to? And on the way home, I took artsy photos?

“Oh yeah! We were lost and you were taking photos of the road.”

“Hey don’t judge me, the road was so long, and it looked amazing. I guess. I’m not sure what I’m saying right now, I’m pretty sleep deprived.”

“You aren’t wrong, from what I remember, those photos were genuinely amazing. The road was a strange road though.

“The road seemed never-ending from the photos but that’s a bit unrealistic isn’t it? I mean everything has an end, even us. Especially us.” He laughed darkly. “Sorry, I know, that was stupid of me to say.”

“Steve,” He could hear the frown in Bucky’s voice, and hated himself, “that’s not fair to do to me, man. You were the one who wanted space, and I gave it to you.”

“I tried to hate you.” Bucky spoke up again, after a dull silence. “I tried so fucking _hard_ to hate you but I couldn’t. Even your fucking voice makes me feel nostalgic.”

Fuck. Steve felt like shit. He was familiar with that fucking word, _nostalgic._ Nostalgia that would grow in his gut, and make it’s way up to his brain. Nostalgia that never left once it arrived.

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry Buck.” He groaned out, voice filled with remorse. “I just thought that I needed to figure who _I_ was.”

“Without me.”

“Without you, yeah.” Steve agreed. There was awkwardness, nostalgia, and regret lingering in the air.

“Steve, can we talk this through, please? Only if you want to but since we stopped talk like what, 8 months ago? I just haven’t really felt the _same._ ” Bucky begged.

“I know. I felt the same. Don’t get me wrong, I love Stark, Clint and Natasha, but none of them could ever be _you._ ” Steve revealed.

“I feel so shit for ignoring you, Steve. The fact that it’s close to being a _year_ since we were on officially good terms fucking kills me. I don’t know where the time has gone.”

“Well, I was off doing drugs and making out with guys while you were in a serious long-term relationship. It’s easy to lose track of time during such distracting things like those.” Steve joked sarcastically.

“Punk.”

“Jerk.”

“Wait, Stevie, does this mean we are back then? Are we okay?” Bucky said, hope drowning his tone.

“I guess we are, pal. Fucking finally.”

“Fucking finally.” Bucky agreed.

“So, then, what did I miss?” Steve asked, a genuine smile on his face. He didn’t even care that it was edging on 4 AM right now, and he had school tomorrow. Because at the moment he had Bucky back. It was so surreal.

“Well, Becca broke her leg during the summer……..

 

*****

They were okay. It was as simple as that. _They were okay._ They fell back into routine and everything was _easy_ and effortless.

It was January, and it was a day that would be marked in history. It was the first day in almost a year that Bucky Barnes sat with his friends at lunch. 

Steve wasn’t sure who invited Bucky to lunch in the first place (probably Natasha) but he sure wasn’t complaining. Although him and his best friend had been catching each other up and hanging out whenever possible, they still didn’t get a chance to talk as often as before. They had other friends, more homework, less time. 

But thankfully, they were finally able to take the next step into repairing their friendship. Sitting at each other’s lunch table. That sound’s really overdramatic, Steve knows, but it was _true_.

So, on this cold Thursday, Steve sat down at the lunch table, Bucky sitting next to him. Across from the table sat Tony with Natasha and Clint. 

“Wow, Bucky Barnes, back from the dead. Who would’ve guessed?” Clint joked next to Natasha. 

“Surely, not me.” Tony mumbled dryly, quiet enough for most not to hear. 

“Welcome back, Barnes.” Natasha said, lips quirking up at their corners.

“See,” Steve nudged Bucky with his elbow, “Even Natasha doesn’t look like a scary Russian assassin anymore.”

“If only Barnes was next.” Tony said grimly, the table not detecting the hostility and laughing, unlike Steve who did. Steve frowned slightly. He knew Tony wasn’t going to be completely ecstatic about Bucky’s return, they were never close. He never suspected Tony to be upset. Interesting.

“Well, after my long awaited return, I think we should celebrate.” Bucky said, looking around him, “With, um, cafeteria food? What even is that? Is it chicken?”

“I think it’s tuna. Maybe.” Steve grimaced, looking at the mush on the table.

“I feel like it might be beef actually, like that corned beef thing? Is that even a thing?” Clint questioned, confused.

“Yes, Barton, corned beef is a thing.” Natasha replied to her boyfriend.

Tony was uncharismatically quiet throughout the whole conversation, and most of the conversations that followed. That was weird.

“Hey, Stark, you good?” Steve asked his close friend, while everyone else was busy in a different conversation.

“Me? Gee, I’m feeling jolly. 100%, perfectly fine.” He answered sarcastically, while pushing away his food and standing up, “I think I’m gonna go to the lab and finish off some work.”

“Okay then,” Steve frowned, “Bye.” Tony was already walking away when he was finished speaking.

“Hey guys, what do you is up with Tony?” He asked his group of friends, sincerely.

“Maybe his dad’s in town or something?” Clint offered as a suggestion. Everybody knew Howard and his son didn’t have the best relationship, and Tony was always on-edge when he was at home.

“No, he’s still finishing work in Japan I think.” Steve said, shooting down Clint’s idea. “Maybe I should go see what’s up.”

“No, Steve, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Natasha warned.

“Fine, okay, whatever. Anyways, what were we talking about?”

“We were talking about how Barnes here needs a fucking haircut."

“Hey!” Buck squawked, in defense.

 

*****

 

Steve noticed it as soon as he walked out of school. There were whispers of a fight roaming the hallways, and Steve was curious. It was a flash of rust-like red, dark clothing, moving bodies. Pouncing on each other. Preying on one another, hurting each other.

It was Bucky and Tony punching each other, pushing each other, fighting each other. There were loud noises everywhere, phones taking videos, screams being let out.

Steve felt frozen on the spot for a moment. He was so fucking confused. Everyone was moving so fast yet so slow.

“What the fuck, you guys?” Steve screamed, running towards the pair, as soon as he broke out of his trance.

Steve tried to move in between them, without being hurt. Eventually he did and was caught between an intense stare off. What the fuck? Was he in fucking Twilight or some shit?

Bucky’s knuckles were bruised, clothing ripped. There was dirt all over him, blood as well. His lip had a slight cut, bruises forming on his pale body.

It was the same for Tony. Covered in mud, anger and rage filling his face. His forehead had a huge bruise, knuckles bleeding like Buck’s. What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Steve repeated aloud, in shock from the sudden confrontation.

“He started it!” Bucky spat in Tony’s direction.

“No, you started it with all of this  _shit_ , right Steve?” Tony snarked back, looking at Steve for confirmation. Bucky had looked to, hurt swimming in his eyes.

“Tony,” Steve started, “I’m not sure what the _hell_ is happening right now but he’s my friend.” He ended, looking directly at Tony.

The crowd around them was slowly disappearing, not caring when no physical violence was happening. Thank god.

“So was I, Steve. I was your fucking friend when he had gone and replaced you with some random chick. When you were crying to me on the phone about your fucking life. When you fucking _needed_ someone, I was there!” Tony yelled at Steve. “I was fucking there, and now you don’t even fucking care, because _Bucky Barnes_ is back in your goddamn life. Fuck you, Steve. I don’t fucking need this.” Tony stormed off, walking towards his car.

Fuck. Steve had barely realized that he was being such a shitty friend to Tony.

“Sorry.” Bucky mumbled from behind him, where he was still standing.

“It’s okay, let’s just, let’s get you cleaned up.” Steve murmured, not really in the mood to talk.

They had made their way to Steve’s in slightly awkward silence. Steve was too busy thinking about how shit he is to actually make conversation.

About halfway there, Bucky had quietly said, “It’s not your fault, you know?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked in return, cheeks red from the early February cold.

“That me and Tony fought. It wasn’t your fault.” Bucky elaborated.

Afterwards they fell into silence again. He knew that Bucky was lying, he had to be. It was obvious that the reason they were fighting in the first place was because of Steve. He wasn’t an idiot.

Tony and Bucky had been skirting around each other the past few weeks. Saying nothing to each other but offhanded sarcastic remarks here and there. Steve knew that they weren’t going to be best friends, but he had hoped that they would eventually get over whatever was happening there. Obviously, that didn’t happen.

They eventually arrived at Steve’s house. Steve ransacked his pockets looking for the key, not being able to find it. He groaned.

Bucky kicked over a plant on their front porch, where their spare key was hidden. He handed it over.  “Here.”

“Thanks.” Steve mumbled in return. He unlocked the door, and led Bucky to his washroom.

Steve made Bucky sit down on the toilet seat cover, while he went to go find their Polysporin and bandages. “Wait here, I’ll be back in a second.”

He rushed down the stairs to go to the kitchen. All of their medicine and antiseptic were on top of the fridge. Thankful that he had grown a bit the past few months, he didn’t even need to grab a chair to stand on. He reached for the container, and quickly went back to Bucky.

“Here, I got the cream.”

“Thanks, Steve.” Bucky said, sheepishly.

“It’s fine man, I mean how many times did you have to do this for me?” Steve chuckled.

Bucky groaned at the memories. “Way too many. _Way_ too many.” He repeated for emphasis, Steve laughing in return.

He lightly dabbed Bucky’s cuts with a wet washcloth, removing the dried blood.

“Be careful, this might sting a little.” Steve warned before applying the Polysporin.

“Don’t mind, it’s probably not even going to even, _oh fuck. That fucking hurts.”_ Bucky hissed at the contact of the cream.

“Don’t worry, it’ll go away in a second. Trust me.” Steve tried to comfort him, while finishing up and applying the bandage. “Here you go, just don't fuck with it too much."

 

****

When Steve woke up he felt misplaced, and it took him a few seconds to realize what was happening. He was pressed up against his best friend, who had a tight grip on his waist. He had a bruise on his cheek, cut on his lips. Buckys hands were bandaged. Fuck,

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Bucky and Tony had _fought_ . Fucking violently. Tony and Bucky were like animals, ripping each other to shreds. They were covered in blood, dirt, sweat, and hatred. They weren’t only shouting horrible things to each other but they were purposefully trying to fuck each other up. It was worse than most high school fights Steve had seen, and there was an actual _reason_ behind this fight. And it was fucking Steve.

Steve felt panic rise through his chest, his heart beating fast. He stood up as quickly as he could without waking up his best friend, untangling the two of them. Fuck.

He ran to the washroom, feeling his breath shortening. He needed to calm the fuck down, now. He tried taking deep breaths, holding it in, _1, 2, 3,_ and breathing out, _1, 2, 3_ but it didn’t work. It made him feeling like he was fucking suffocating, with his heart beating so fast.

_Bucky and Tony had gotten in a fight because of him. It was his fault that they were both fucking hurt. Bleeding. Dirty. Filled with hatred and rage. It was his fault. It was his fault. It was his fault. It was his fault. It was his fault. It was his fault that his two fucking best friends were hurt, his fault that they hate each other. Everything was his fucking fault._

With shaky hands Steve reached underneath the sink to pick up _that_ box.

 _It was his fault. If he didn’t ask for space. If he didn’t start fucking Tony. If he didn’t do shit that hurt others_.

He slid open the cover, not caring which blade he took this time.

_It was his fault._

He didn’t care if it was sharp, dull, or whatever. He just wanted to hurt, to bleed, to feel calm, and he wanted it now. He didn’t care what the fucking cost was.

_It was his fault. He deserved this. He deserved to feel the pain that he caused his friends. The pain he caused everybody else._

He barely paid attention to the fact that Bucky was 20 feet away, in the bedroom. He barely paid attention to anything but the slight sliver of metal in his hands, the only noise filling his ears was his rapid breathing.

_It was his fault. He should just be fucking dead right now. Nobody even likes him. How can anybody like him when he’s like this? A fucking freak. A fuck-up. The worst part of everybody’s lives. He fucked up everything by just existing. He deserves to be dead more than anybody right now._

Steve played with the thought for a moment. What would happen if he cut straight down the middle of his wrist right now? As hard as he could? He imagined it, revelling in the idea. He knows he should be disgusted by that, but it was comforting. The fact that he could be dead within minutes if he pressed down hard enough.

_He should just fucking do it. Fucking die. He wants to, wanted to for so long. He’s going to do it eventually, he knows that. He knows that the way he dies is going to be in his own hands, he can feel it. He wants to have control over his death, and he will. He fucking deserves to die, and he might as well do it how he wants to._

He took the blade and pressed it against his wrist, further down than he would preferred. He knew that when he killed himself, he wouldn’t want anyone to suffer by finding the body. He didn’t want to fuck up somebody’s life by dying, and in his mind that would be the only thing to prevent. Everybody would be fine unless someone found the body. He didn’t want to have the responsibility on him.

He saw his pale skin turn to red. It was slow, but felt fast. The blood trickling out of the cut little by little. He sliced through the skin again, making it bleed faster and faster. He stared at his work for a second. The sight calmed him down immediately. The metallic taste in his mouth, the cool blood on his arm, the slight pain drowned by endorphins. He smiled slightly, let a breath out of his mouth.

Of course, when he was finally calm, that was when Bucky walked in.

“Steve what the fuck?” Bucky screamed at him, looking half-asleep and groggily yet still filled with anger.

“What the hell are you doing?” This was the angriest Steve has ever seen Bucky in his life. Sure, he’s seen him angry before, but never at _Steve,_ it was always at somebody else. Fuck.

“Bucky, I-I can explain.” Steve stuttered, his nerves building up again. His heart started to pound again.

“Oh yeah? What’s your explanation for this? _Oh Bucky, I just_ fell _on this blade trying to get in the shower and had to sit down.”_ He mocked, in a high pitched voice. “Or maybe something like, _Bucky this cat just jumped through the window, cut me, and ran away.”_

Steve could feel himself getting angry too. Bucky had no fucking _right_ to say shit about Steve. He had no fucking right. Steve was allowed to do whatever the fucking he wanted to do, and he wasn’t hurting anybody but himself! Fucking Bucky, who the fuck does he think he is?

“Shut the fuck up! It’s my body and I’m allowed to do whatever the fuck I want to it.” Steve yelled back, strangely confident. What the fuck was going on with Steve? He’s felt over a hundred different emotions during the past half an hour.

“Not if you’re hurting yourself!” Bucky countered back, walking closer to Steve while speaking. Steve was standing in front of the toilet and when did that happen? What the fuck?

“Especially if I’m hurting myself! Because it’s _my_ problem that I fucking deserve it. You can’t get mad at me for doing what I _need to!_ I fucking, I de-” Steve stopped mid-sentence, feeling overwhelmed. He took a step back, almost tripping into the shower. Bucky quickly reached over and grabbed his arm before he fell over.

Almost instantly, the mood of the room changed. It went from red heat to a dark grey. They were somber.

Bucky had grabbed the arm that was filled with scars, scattered all over his wrists and forearms. He brushed his thumb against a few of the scars, lightly, but still enough to make Steve shiver. Nobody how much they touched, how close they were, this was still the most intimate moment they have ever had, Steve was sure.

Bucky looked down into Steve’s eyes, confusion and sadness filled his eyes.

“Why?” He asked quietly, a complete 180° from his previous tone.

“Because I’m fucked up. Because nobody will ever love me. Because _I_ don’t even love me. Because I ruin everybody’s lives just by existing.” Steve whispered truthfully, feeling his eyes watering a little.

“But Steve. That’s so wrong, you don’t even understand. Anybody would be lucky to have you, _anybody_.” Bucky confessed sincerely.

“Oh really? Why is it then that the one person I want, the only person I’ve ever wanted doesn’t want me back?” Steve scoffed, annoyance clouding his judgement. Bucky looked hurt, heartbroken even. He seemed to be forming a response in his brain, and Steve didn’t want to interrupt his thoughts.

Then all of a sudden, Bucky’s pressed his lips against Steve’s. Fuck, could this get anymore cliche?

They kissed gently for a few seconds. Brushing lips against one another’s. Bucky’s touch was so light, so gentle. Steve leant in further to the kiss, he swore he was in heaven. This was nothing like the first time they kissed, 9 year olds sharing a bed.

“Stop, stop, stop.” Steve murmured against Bucky’s lips, Bucky pulling away instantly.

“What? What’s wrong?” Bucky asked, concerned, wrinkles furrowing between his eyebrows.

“I don’t want you to kiss me because you feel sorry for me, Buck.” Steve confessed. “I don’t need you to try and make me feel better like this, if you don’t want to, If you don’t want me.”

“Steve, that isn’t what this is. This is me making up for fucking years of you not feeling loved when I didn’t show you how I actually felt.” Bucky revealed. “Do you honestly think I would kiss you if I didn’t mean it?” Steve shook his head, indicating no. “Then let me kiss you again. Only if you want me to, of course.”

“Of course I fucking want you to, punk.” Steve said before pressing his lips against Bucky’s once more. He was so fucking happy. He never expected this to happen, not realistically.  

This was the best moment of his life. He knew that this wasn’t going to fix all, or any of his previous problems, but it was going to make everything _easier._

He felt in bliss.

 

****

 

They spent the rest of the weekend in bed, lazily making out. They were making up for lost time, of course. They still had a rough weekend, dealing with the aftermath of Bucky’s fight and Steve’s cuts. They even had a serious conversation about _it_ , about everything late Saturday night.

“Hey Steve?” Bucky muttered next to his boyfriend (which, of course they decided to label each other as. It was great.) on the couch where they were currently watching Heathers.

“Yeah?” Steve said in return, twisting his head to see his boyfriend.

“Why didn’t you ever, like you now, tell me about _it_?” He stammered through the question, obviously nervous about asking. Steve felt his heart start to pound.

“I don’t know, Buck. Honestly. I think I just didn’t want to hurt you.” He whispered quietly, shame marking his voice.

Bucky choked. “I’m, fuck, I’m so sorry if you felt like you couldn’t talk to me about it.”

“Bucky, don’t, okay? It’s not your fault that I, that I hurt myself okay? If I felt like I needed help I promise I would’ve told you. I just thought that I could deal with it by myself.”

“Okay, but Steve can we make a promise? An honest to god, deep as fuck, never-ending bullshit promise?”

“What for?” He questioned.

“That if anyone one of us, you _or_ me, ever get low we’ll try to talk to each other?”

“Yeah Buck,” Steve leaned in closer to his boyfriend, “I promise.”

All in all, it was a very cute and heartwarming moment. That’s one thing Steve loved about them. Unlike other friends, they were able to talk about deep shit _in real life_ . They didn’t feel vulnerable, exposed, or anything without the barrier of technology. They continued the discussion, somehow ending the conversation with Bucky and Tony. Bucky had explained how the fight happened in the first place, how it was sporadic and uncalled for. That Steve might have been a part of it, but Bucky felt like there was _more_ happening behind the scenes.

Currently, they were rushing on Monday morning, trying to get ready for school on time. Bucky’s parents assumed that he was just having a sleepover with his best friend, which they were both thankful for. The only downside of this ordeal was that, unfortunately, they spent the morning lazily kissing instead of getting up for school. Which they are both regretting, right now.

Steve was scavenging through his clothing, looking for that _one_ top that he swore was clean.“Hey, Bucky do you see my blue shir-”

Bucky threw the shirt at Steve, mid sentence, while rushing to put on his pants. “Here, do you know where that black sweater of mine is?”

Steve looked around him, found the sweater, and threw it to his friend. “C’mon, we gotta go, like _now.”_

They both rushed down the stairs, hair ruffled, clothing a mess. They didn’t care though because if they wanted to be at school in time, they needed to leave.

“Wait, Steve I think you’re forgetting something.” Bucky said just as they were about to leave. Steve frowned, he thought he had everything with him. He started to make a mental list, not figuring out what he forgot.

“What is it?” He asked after a few seconds. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist, and pulled him in for a kiss.

“That.” He said with a smirk.

Steve groaned. “Bucky, you do realize how grossly cliche that was, right?”

“I know, but I don’t care punk.” He ruffled his boyfriend’s hair, and grabbed his hand. Bucky pulled them out the door and they started walking to school. Hand in hand, for the first time ever. Steve brushed his thumb against Bucky’s hand, Bucky squeezing back afterwards. Steve smiled slightly, leaning against his boyfriend. He didn’t even need to look up to know that he was smiling too.

They walked to school in comfortable silence, the quiet saying things that they didn’t need to. Things like “I love you” and “I’m so happy right now.” Sometimes it was easier to let the empty noise speak for you, Steve thought.

They got to school just in time, not too late or too early. Steve and Bucky thankfully had Psych together, and didn’t need to end their time together early.

“Hey, you’re okay with this right?” Steve asked Bucky before entering the classroom. Bucky furrowed his brows, and pulled Steve a little off to the side.

“With what?”

“Like, you know. Me, you, the overall gayness happening right now.” Steve stammered out, blushing a little.

“Steve, it’s 2014, I’m sure nobody's going to care if I’m dating a guy, if I’m dating _you._ ”

And oh how Bucky was wrong. Because as soon as they entered the classroom, they heard a loud scream of, “What Bucky Barnes is gay now?”

Steve could honestly say it was the most ‘ _high school’_ moment of his life. Everybody turned their heads at the entrance of the door, zeroing in on their clasped hands. It was so quiet that Steve’s surprised nobody could hear his heart drop.

Bucky faltered for a moment before screaming back, “Not gay, bisexual, you asshole.” The class giggled in the background. Okay, that could’ve gone worse, Steve thought.

Right at that moment, Ms. Danvers rushed into the room with a cup of coffee and papers practically falling out of her hands. She almost pushed Steve and Bucky out of the way by entering. She rested her million items on the desk.

“Sorry, boys! Just had to get some papers, class. Now let’s begin today’s lesson on Freud.” The class groaned in response, a select few excited at the idea of learning more. And that was that.

The two boys spent the class taking notes and sneaking glances at each other. It wasn’t very different than before, actually. The only difference was that they didn’t need to hide the fact that the smiles growing on their faces were about each other. Halfway between the slideshow, Bucky had even held Steve’s hand. It made him feel so giddy, like a middle schooler again. He wasn’t at all opposed to that feeling.

At some point within the class Steve had even zoned out, trying to memorize each piece of Bucky’s face. The hair strand that brushed against his cheeks, the glimmer of light in his eyes, the exact shade of pink his lips had. Memorize it now, in case there was a day where he wouldn’t be able to stare this incessantly at him. He was only brought back to reality when Ms. Danvers had asked him a question about the Freudian theory of personality. He stuttered out the answer, face turning an unique shade of red, with Bucky stifling laughter beside him.

They had to part at the end of the class for second period. After promising to meet up before going to Nat and Clint, they went their separate ways.  Weirdly enough, the smile that Bucky caused had stuck with him all the way till lunch. He didn’t feel empty at the absence of his boyfriend, but instead excited for when they would reunite again.

He spent his entire English class drifting off to thoughts of Bucky. This was a rare occurrence, but the context of his daydreams were different. Instead of imagining, he was _remembering_ and reliving the past few days. Everything had been surreal. He was in the clouds, not wanting to return back down. Maybe he would fall and realizing that it was all an elaborate dream, that nothing had happened. The thought scared him, but he tried to shake it. It was too _real_ to be anything else.

Before he knew it, the bell rang signaling lunch. He practically jumped out of seat, and ran to his locker where he was going to meet Bucky. Bucky his boyfriend. It sounded silly, but the thought made his heart face and a fond smile grow within seconds.

He made his way towards his locker, spotting the back of Bucky’s figure. He smiled slightly, as he approached his boyfriend.

“Hey, Buck.” He greeted him with an overly fond grin.

Bucky returned that grin with his own, “Hi, Stevie.”

They looked at each other for a moment and Steve couldn’t believe that he was lucky enough to be with him, to be dating him. It feels like he’s been waiting forever for this.

“Let me just put my stuff in my locker, then we can go meet up with Nat and them.” He turned to his locker and emptied his books into it. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s back, and pressed a slight kiss to his neck.

“Hey.” He said.

“Bucky, didn’t we just say that?” Steve replied with no heat behind his words. He turned to face his boyfriend who pressed his lips against Steve’s right away.

“There’s people around, Bucky.” He murmured against his boyfriend’s lips.

“I don’t care.” He replied, but breaking off the kiss only a few seconds later. “Let’s go.”

They made their way to the cafeteria, Steve not sure where it would be leading. They spotted Natasha and Clint at their usual table, sans Tony. Okay, he guesses, he could’ve predicted it leading to that.

“Hey guys.” He said while sitting down, hand intertwined with Bucky’s. The two chorused with their own pair of hello’s in return.

“So,” Clint started, mischief on his face, “You wouldn’t believe what I heard when walking through the halls this fine evening.”

“Clint, it’s barely afternoon.” Natasha pointed out, deadpanned.

“Shhh, anyways. I heard whispers amongst the fine students of this fine establishmen-”

“How many times are you going to say ‘fine’?” Bucky asked.

“As many times as I want to, now quit interrupting guys. I heard the Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are now dating and I was thinking hmm, that can’t be true. They would’ve told us first, right?”

Bucky and Steve shared a guilty look. They hadn’t meant to keep their friends out of the loop, they were just busy together this weekend.

“I already knew.” Natasha piped up, giving Clint a _look_.

“How did you?” Steve began to ask, shutting his mouth as soon as Natasha gave him the same look she gave Clint. Okay, he thought, maybe it was better that he didn’t know.

“Sorry guys, me and Steve here were busy the weekend. Doing. Um, Stuff?” Bucky hesitated.

“Stuff?” Natasha questioned, one eyebrow quirked.

“Yes.” Steve said. “Stuff.”

“Stuff.” Clint decided to join in.

 _"Yes, stuff._ ” Steve and Bucky scowled, in unison.

“NATASHA DID YOU SEE THAT? That was _so_ cute. Snapping at the same time? _Goals._ ” Clint giggled. “You guys need a couple name. I’m so totally going to call you guys, fuck, I don’t know. Beve? Sucky? Buckve? Stucky?”

“I like ‘Stucky.’” Bucky offered. Steve looked at him, and he shrugged in return.

“Me too.” Natasha agreed.

“Stucky it is.” Clint declared.

 _"Anyways_ , does anyone know what’s up with Stark?” Steve asked towards the group.

Everybody shrugged except for Natasha, who muttered that he was sitting over with Pepper’s table. That table included, Pepper (of course), Thor who had recently moved there. Maria from Chem, and Bruce who was a pretty pleasant guy.

They were good people, but Steve still felt a wave of discomfort at the thought of _not_ being Tony’s friend anymore.

“Anyhow, I think we should talk about double dates. And how often we should partake in these joyous events.” Clint declared. Steve could feel the negativity from that statement radiating off Bucky and he _had_ to play with him a little. For science of course.

“I think we should go bowling.” Steve exclaimed, feeling pride in the groans that Natasha and Bucky shared.

 

*****

It was April 28th and Steve wanted to die, again.

Maybe he should rewind back on the day a little bit.

The past few weeks since him and Bucky had gotten together contained some of the happiest moments of his life. They had finally gotten their shit together, and had a wholesome, _equal_ relationship. They went out, they stayed in, they hung out with Clint and Natasha. They had everything that a healthy relationship needed.

Sarah, Steve’s mom, had also gotten in a relationship with somebody new, somebody good for her. He was a new nurse at the hospital she works at, and they had hit it off immediately. Steve was ecstatic for her, she hadn’t dated anyone since his dad left. Nobody what happened between Steve and his mom, he still wanted her to be happy. She deserved to be happy.

Steve and Bucky had met this guy, _Tom_ , at a family dinner. It was a nice occasion, the four of them feasting together. It was rare for Steve to see his mom, let alone eat with her, so he was very excited for this. Tom ended up being a really nice, mannerly, gentle man who did not mind Steve and Bucky’s relationship and he even helped Sarah clean up afterwards. It was nice.

Steve wasn’t stupid though, he knew that although he was happy for a while, he was still going to have some form of a relapse. Only it would feel so much shitter, because he thought he was doing okay.

He hated whenever this fucking happened, and it happened so _often_ to him, it made him sick. He always thought, “Nice I’m finally okay.” or “I’m proud of myself for getting this far.” but then he was off contemplating suicide again.

His week in general was shit, and it started out like shit. On monday, he was stuck in a group with Tony for an entire period. Not only was it completely awkward, it triggered the memory of him fucking up again. Him fucking up everything. The rest of the week didn’t get better, it progressively got worse. Too much work, too little time, with not enough self-confidence was not a good equation for trying to get by. He knew that everything was just miniscule thing that shouldn’t bother him but for some reason it made him feel like everything was falling apart.

Like everything he built up high was crumbling to the ground while he was stuck watching it fall.

The worst part was that he couldn’t do his art. He had no fucking inspiration whatsoever. He had no original ideas, nothing. He wanted to draw, to write, to paint so badly, have something as a distraction, but he _couldn’t_. Everything he drew turned out like shit, his writing was bad, and his painting was merely a couple streaks of paint here and there. He couldn’t even convert all of his fucking negative emotion into art, into something beautiful.

He wanted to do something so badly, but he just couldn’t. It was frustrating, and reminded him how useless he is.

At the moment, Steve was on his bed, curled up in the corner. His breathing was rapid, chest heaving, hands shaking. He was tired of being a fucking failure, he just wanted to die. He was shaking uncontrollably and he couldn’t _stop_. He couldn’t stop anything. Not his constant fails, not his rapid thoughts, nothing.

He wanted to hurt himself, he wanted it so bad. To feel the pain ache through his body, to have it course through his veins.

But he couldn’t. He’d been clean since that one night Bucky found him, and he didn’t want to let him down. He didn’t know what to do.

With shaking hands, he unlocked his phone, and called Bucky. It took a few rings for him to pick up, before he answered with his usual, “Hello?”

“Bucky, I’m just. I can’t, I can’t _fucking_ do this anymore.” Steve sobbed through the phone, breathing hard.

“Steve? What’s up? Are you okay?” He asked, concerned, through the phone.

“I’m just, I’m so fucking _tired_. I want to do it, I want to so fucking badly, but I know I can’t let you down. I just, I fucking can’t.”

“Steve, okay just take a few deep breaths. I’m here for you okay? You’re not alone, you’re safe.” He mumbled in response.

Steve tried to follow his instructions, attempting to calm down. Bucky’s soothe voice repeating “ _It’s okay, you’re okay.”_ through the phone continuously was helping, but only to a certain extent.

Steve didn’t know how long it was until he finally calmed down, he was afraid to look. He was still shaking, heart still beating a little too fast. _But_ , he wasn’t in the middle of an anxiety attack anymore. That didn’t mean he didn’t feel like crap.

Once Bucky took notice of Steve calming down he said, “Now, do you wanna talk to me about what that was about?”

“I just, I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what, Steve?” Bucky’s voice cracking a little.

 _"Everything_. I can’t keep clean, I can’t deal with school, everything’s too much.” Steve mutterred.

“Steve,” He started through the phone, “It’s not your fault if this relationship’s too much to handle right now okay? I won’t be upset if you tell me that.”

Fuck! That wasn’t what Steve meant.

“No! Bucky, this relationships the only thing keeping me sane right now.” He confessed.

He heard Bucky sign from the other end, not sure if it was from relief or concern. “Okay, but still. If it ever gets too much just promise me you’ll tell me okay?”

“Okay, I promise.” Steve replied truthfully.

There was a short silence, neither of them knowing what to say, before Steve spoke up again.

“Did you know that I poured so much of my emotions into art that I barely feel anything anymore.” And he can’t even do art anymore.

Steve continued to speak, after Bucky didn’t reply right away.

“It’s so _stupid_ because other people have it worse and  I fucking know they have it worse and they can deal with it and these thoughts won’t stop leaving my brain and I just fucking can't do it anymore.” Steve was mad at himself for being so open right now, but he couldn’t stop himself from speaking. It was like his filter was completely gone. His heart was starting to pound again as he felt himself begin to panic.

He heard Bucky ruffle around a bit, before speaking again.

“Okay first of all take another deep breath, I can hear your breathing pick up again. And you need to remember that just because other people have it bad doesn't mean you don't either. Just because other people can handle it it doesn't mean you’re weak. Everybody has a different pain tolerance, physical _or_ mental and it doesn’t mean shit if you can't handle it at the moment. Because everybody handles different levels of pain differently and it doesn’t mean you’re weak, you’re never fucking weak. You know why? Because you try to help everybody, anybody, whenever you can. If you can’t help yourself, even if it's merely at the moment, then I’m here for you. I am here to support you, and give you anything you need to help yourself. I’m here for you, Steve”

Steve listened to each and every word that Bucky said to him, his heart pounding during his small speech. He was felt warm all over, and something else that he couldn’t detect. Happiness maybe? Compassion? He couldn’t think of a word to describe it other than _warm._

He didn’t expect that, not at all. He was still feeling _off_ but in this moment he knew that he was going to be alright. He will be okay.

“I, Thank you, Buck. So much. You honestly, you don’t know how much that means to me.” He spluttered out, heartfelt.

“Are you doing okay now, punk?”

“Yeah, thanks. I love you.” Steve mumbled.

“Love you too. Change of subject, do you wanna hear about Rebecca’s new boyfriend?” Bucky inquired, sounding weirded out by the entire concept.

“What?” He squawked. “Isn’t she only in grade six?”

“Hey, watch it, remember you running around with Peggy Carter then?”

“You know what, I think we should get back to Rebecca’s boyfriend.” Bucky chuckled in return before continuing.

“Basically, it’s the awkwardest relationship I’ve ever seen. Trust me. They haven’t even hung out yet, and you should _see_ their iMessage conversations.”

Bucky went on about his younger sister’s relationship, sounding completely bewildered the entire time. Steve smiled fondly throughout the entire conversation. He glanced over at his clock to see that it was almost midnight.

He snuggled a little more into his sheets, getting comfortable. He felt himself begin to slowly drift away, tired from the entire day.

“Hey, you still with me. Steve?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He yawned. “Just keep talking, your voice s’nice.” He mumbled through the phone lazily.

Bucky laughed warmly. “Okay, well, after I found out about it……

Steve fell asleep quickly, listening to his boyfriend’s tender voice. He was comfortable, and easily drifted away into a dreamless sleep.

It wasn’t until the morning when the phone call ended. Steve woke up, feeling completely rested while he picked up his phone to scroll through his notifications. He saw that the call was still happening, verging on 12 hours. Thankful that they both had unlimited calling, he smiled fondly, and rolled back into his sheets.

 

******

 

It was June 29th 2014. Also known as the day Steve Rogers and his friend’s officially completed their Junior year at high school.

Steve was so _happy_ . The past year had been so difficult, with so many obstacles blocking his way. It had also been one of the best years of his life. Him and his best friend had finally decided to date, and his other friends were happy too. _It_ was slowly evaporating in his brain, being pushed back to the darkest corners of his brain.

He’s been (mostly) clean since that one day after Tony and Bucky’s fight, a few relapses here and there. He knew that recovery wasn’t a straight path but fuck, it was easier to stay clean than ever before in his life.

Right now, Steve was getting ready for the end of the year party. Or one of them he supposes. Him, Bucky, Clint, and Natasha were headed to Jane Foster’s house for what they hope would be the wildest party of the year.

He was _just_ done changing into his black skinny jeans and white v-neck when he heard Clint honk outside his window.

He took one last look at himself in the mirror. He was growing tall, almost 6’0, and was finally filling out. He’s been going to the gym more often than usual, using it as a replacement for hurting himself. And it was definitely working for him.

He heard Clint honk one last time, and he rushed down the stairs. He grabbed his keys, and locked the door behind him.

He saw Clint in his Honda Accord (courtesy of his parents) with Nat in the passenger and Bucky in the back.

As soon as he approached the car, the group of them wolf whistled. Steve turned a deep shade of red.

“Damn, Steve, if I wasn’t with Nat and I wasn’t straight I would totally hit that.”

“Ditto.” Natasha returned with a joking wink.

Bucky hit the back of Clint’s head. “That’s my boyfriend, dick.”

“Heyyy,” Clint whined. “What about Tash’?” Bucky shrugged.

Steve jumped into the car, and they made their way over to Jane’s house. Frankly, it wasn’t a far walk for Steve and Bucky but Clint had insisted on picking them up. The short-lived car ride was filled was jokes, and when A Thousand Miles came on the radio, they all bursted out with the lyrics without shame. Steve loved his friends.

Finally, they arrived to the party. They could hear a music from a block away, so it wasn’t quite hard to figure out which house it was.

So, they entered the house. It was a big enough party that they didn’t need to knock on the door. It wasn’t even late yet there was still people throwing up on the front lawn, and damn, Steve thought. Tonight was going to be fun.

“Hey.” Clint screamed over the loud music. “I’m gonna go to the kitchen and get some drinks m’kay? Natasha, you coming?” Natasha agreed to accompany him, leaving Steve and Bucky alone.

“Can you believe that this party is _already_ so wild? I swear we are only an hour or so late.” Steve exclaimed, not expecting it to be such a wild crowd.

“I can’t believe it either. I thought more people would’ve been at Stark’s.” Bucky replied. Steve faltered a little bit. “Sorry, fuck, I forgot. You okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry.” Steve reassured him. “I’m here, with the best guy ever. Who also is my boyfriend, might I mention.” Bucky smiled fondly at him, before pulling him in for a kiss. Steve kissed back, moving his mouth in sync with his boyfriend’s. They pulled away, Steve panting slightly.

“You know, we don’t really _need_ to be here.”

Steve swatted at his boyfriend. “Bucky! We haven’t even been here for 5 minutes yet!”

Bucky pulled Steve to his chest, and pressed his head on top of Steve’s. “Shhhh.”

“Buckyy.” Steve pulled away from his boyfriend with a pout on his face. “We _have_ to stay here for at least an hour okay? Jane’s our friend.”

“Fineeeee.” Bucky whined, petulantly.

Quickly after, Clint and Natasha returned with two drinks in each of their hands. “Drink up.”

Steve and Bucky looked at each other for a split second, and then shrugged. They grabbed the cups from their friends, and chugged it. Steve’s throat burned slightly, the slight medicine taste of vodka hitting his tongue. He wiped his mouth.

“Yuck, is this Smirnoff?” Steve complained, only half joking.

“Steve, don’t complain. Vodka is vodka.” Natasha replied, smirk on her face.

“But Smirnoff tastes like medicine!” Steve exclaimed. The group groaned.

“Steve, it literally doesn’t.” Clint deadpanned. Steve pouted childishly.

The rest of the hour continued vaguely like that. While Steve and Bucky didn’t decide to drink anymore, they were slightly tipsy from the previous drink. And maybe the two others they _might_ have decided to have afterwards. But other than that, they were mostly sober.

The story wasn’t the same for Clint, who quite frankly, was a drunken mess. Thankfully he had Natasha to take care of him. Steve was proud of her, being able to take care of Clint like that. She hadn’t even lost track of him. Right now, Clint was attempting to play darts with a bunch of sophomores. He was up against Kate Bishop, and they were neck and neck in competition. No matter how much he drank, he was _still_ able to get bullseye almost every time.

It was just over an hour when Bucky and Steve decided to tell them they were leaving to go back to Steve’s.

“But whyyyy?” Clint whined after they told him. Bucky wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, Steve elbowing him in the guts afterwards. Realization dawned on Clint’s drunken face. “Oh. _Ohhhh._ M’kay. Use protection.”

Steve turned beet red, and Bucky chuckled. Steve elbowed him again. “Owww.”

“That’s what you get.” Steve joked. “Let’s head out now?”

“Okayy. Bye Clint. Tell Natasha we said bye too, and good luck.” Clint looked confused at the statement, and they laughed it off. “Nevermind, Clint. Be safe.”

“You too.” He returned with a horrible wink. He then turned away and started walking towards Thor, a senior. “Buddy! Has anyone ever told you that you had such nice, silky hair?”

Steve and Bucky caught each other’s gaze, and laughed. They left Jane’s house after saying a quick goodbye to her, and walked down the street hand in hand. More like laughing and running down the street actually.

When they finally got back to Steve’s, he fumbled with the keys to unlock the door. It took him a couple tries, but he finally got it. “Success!”

Bucky laughed deeply, it rumbling through his chest. Steve opened the door, and as soon as they got inside Bucky backed him towards the door.

“Where’s your mom?” He whispered hotly into Steve’s ear.

“She’s, she’s at Tom’s place.” Steve stammered nervously. He wasn’t a bad ‘about to go present in front of the class’ type of nervous. He was the type of nervous that you get going on your first date, or seeing your crush in your class. It was butterflies growing and flying all through his stomach.

“Good.” Bucky husked before grabbing Steve’s hand and leaded him up the stairs.

They rushed inside Steve’s room. Bucky pressed Steve against the door, attacking his lips. Steve bit Bucky’s lower lip experimentally, loving the noise he made right after.

Bucky’s hands began to roam lower and lower before he was grasping Steve’s ass. Steve gasped wetly against Bucky’s mouth. Bucky took that opportunity to pull away, if only for a second. Steve whined.

“You’re not drunk, right?” Bucky asked, voice rockier than usually.

“Yes, I’m not trust me. Are you?” Steve stuttered out slowly, his brain feeling slow.

“No.” Bucky said before roughly pressing his lips against Steve’s again. He turned them around, and pushed Steve onto the bed. He pinned Steve’s hands above his head. Steve was glad they were lying down right now, because if he was standing he’s sure his knees would’ve buckled.

Bucky kissed down Steve’s neck, before going lower. He bunched up Steve’s top, licking over his nipples once, twice. Steve was slightly embarrassed by how loud of a moan he let out. He could feel himself flush all the way down his chest.

“Sit up.” Bucky commanded. So Steve sat up slightly, Bucky reaching up to remove his top before pushing him back down onto the bed. Bucky moved lower until he reached Steve’s pants. He looked up for a second, making eye contact with Steve. “You sure?”

“Yes, yes, _yes_ , Bucky. You don’t know, how long I’ve been waiting.” Steve groaned out, not wanting to wait any longer. He knew how hard he was, knew that Bucky could feel it. Bucky smirked, before resuming his prior position.

He unzipped Steve’s jeans, and Steve lifted his hips to help Bucky take them off. Before he knew it, he was practically naked in front his childhood best friend. He frowned slightly. “Hey, Buck?”

“Mmm?”

“Can you, I mean, only if you’re comfortably, but like, um can you-”

“Steve, take a deep breath. What is it?” Bucky asked, genuine concern on his face.

Steve felt himself flush even more if possible. “Can you take off some of your clothes too? I’m feeling a little, um, _naked._ ”

Bucky smirked at him for a second before getting off the bed and standing up. He pulled off his top, revealing a flat surface. Then he reached down and took off his pants, leaving him in boxers. “Is that good enough for you, or do you want more.” He challenged.

Well, Steve was never one to back down from a challenge. “More.” Bucky grinned even harder, before taking off his boxers. And, um, wow. Just. Wow. Okay. Steve could feel his brain short circuit at the sight of Bucky, _all_ of Bucky.

It wasn’t like Steve hadn’t seen naked men before, wasn’t even like he hadn’t sucked dick before. There was Tony, and maybe even a few others he wouldn’t like to mention from the summer.

But Steve wouldn’t be lying if he said that Bucky had the prettiest cock he’d ever seen. Before he knew it, Bucky put himself back in between Steve’s legs. He was about to take off Steve’s boxers, but looked up for confirmation. Steve nodded.

So he did. Steve was too aroused right now to feel insecure about himself, and he didn’t wanna sound cocky (get it? _cock_ y?) but he knew he wasn’t exactly small. Especially since puberty.

“Okay, Steve, being serious here for a moment. I’ve never actually done _this_ before with a guy, okay? So tell me if it’s horrible.” Bucky said self-deprecatingly.

“Hey.” Steve said with a frown. “It can’t be horrible, as long as it’s _you._ ” He replied sincerely.

Bucky looked up and giggled for a second. “Doofus.”

“Jerk.” Steve returned with a small smile.

Before Steve knew it, he was engulfed in wet heat. He looked down to see the beautiful sight of Bucky Barnes with his mouth around Steve’s cock. It took everything in Steve’s power not to fuck up into his boyfriend’s mouth.

He knew he wouldn’t last long once Bucky swirled his tongue around the tip of his head, and started fondling Steve’s balls. Fuck. Steve let out a long moan, not wanting it to be over soon. He could see from here that Bucky’s lips were a beautiful, swollen, red, and his hair a mess from Steve grabbing it. It was beautiful.

He was a goner once they made eye contact. As soon as Bucky looked up into Steve’s oceanic blue eyes, it was over. He could feel the electricity spark through his veins, like small explosions happening through his bloodstream. He felt fire pooling in his lower abdomen and that was it.

Steve let out a series of, “Oh my god, _Bucky._ You’re so, so, good at this, oh my god.” before releasing into his boyfriend’s mouth. Bucky sucked him through it, swallowing every drop he releasing. He pulled away, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

He was in post-orgasmic bliss, before he shook out of it and frowned for not returning the favour. “Do you want me, to like, you know?” He stammered out. Maybe he didn’t completely shake out of it.

What he didn’t expect was for Bucky to blush. “Um, no, I already did.”

Steve was confused, when would he have time to come? Steve barely even laid his hands on Bucky. Then realization dawned on him, and he groaned. “Oh my god, Bucky, that’s so _hot._ ”

“C’mon Stevie, let’s clean up.” Bucky said, still slightly red.

“Noooo.” Steve said pulling his boyfriend close to him. “I don’t wanna.” He pouted for what seemed to be the hundredth time this night.

“Shut up.” Bucky mumbled, swatting at his boyfriend’s (really) naked chest. “Move over, you big hunk.”

Steve moved over to give his boyfriend room. Bucky curled up into Steve’s chest and Steve felt so _warm._ They were truly the human embodiment of summer.

Steve was playing with his boyfriend’s hair when he called for his attention.“Hey, Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you ever think we would be here, like when we were young?” He said, heart stuttering.

“Cuddling on a bed after sucking your dick?” Bucky humoured, giggling into Steve. Steve could feel him laugh, which made him feel so fucking _happy._

“Buck.” He deadpanned although that was the completely opposite of his current mood.

“Yeah, I guess I always hoped we would get this far. Even if I didn’t consciously know it.”

“Okay.” Steve said with a fond smile on his face, looking down on his boyfriend.

Bucky looked up, bewildered. “What?! I speak these kind, pure, words to you Stevie and all I get is an ‘okay’? I’m offended.”

“Yep.” Steve chuckled.

“Punk.” Bucky replied before cuddling back against Steve.

In that moment Steve realized something while his boyfriend ( _fuck he still wasn’t used to it)_ was snuggled tightly against his chest, Steve’s arm wrapping around him.

He realized that home is not a place, not a person or any physical object. Home is not any state of matter, not anything animate or inanimate. Home is a state of mind, the feeling of being at peace and comfort. Home is being rid of all anxiety, and negative feelings. It’s rare to find a true home but right here, Steve is sure, that his home is _now._

 

 


End file.
